Dear Parents, (breathing into brown paper bag)
Your child's vision was recently evaluated...
I let out a huge sigh of relief. Thank heavens it's not her BRAIN. It's just her EYES. She failed a vision test.
According to the person who administered said eye exam, Macey's vision is 20/50 in her right eye and 20/70 in her left. [Sidenote: I have NO IDEA what these numbers mean.] Since my vision is *perfect* and the idea of Macey's vision being impaired has not once crossed my brain, you can imagine the frenzy of highly accurate, mom-administered vision tests that ensued. ("Hey Macey, which number is the big hand on the clock it pointing to?" Macey, squinting her eyes and inching closer to the clock, "Three? Nine? Can I have some candy?")
After I finished my battery of vision tests, I gave Macey some candy and began some serious thinking, the kind of thinking that can only be done whilst eating fudge made by your sister's boyfriend Frank. [Another sidenote: If your sister doesn't have a boyfriend named Frank who makes you fudge, how do you get any thinking done?]
Here is the nutshell version of my thoughts: In life, we're all moving our pieces (I'm the silver tophat) around the board and sometimes we land on the square that says to draw a card. Sometimes the card is good ("You won a beauty contest. Collect $50."), sometimes the card is crappy ("Your daughter inherited your dad's terrible eyesight. You must schedule an eye exam and will probably have to buy glasses that will be cute but that you can't afford. Pay $400 to the nearst optometrist who is already wealthy and doesn't need it.") I'm going to sneak my card back under the pile and hope that I win the beauty contest.