Tuesday, June 17, 2008

The Strange Case of Dr Chuckle and Mr Cried

Dear Colleagues,

I feel compelled to write you concerning a most wondrous strange phenomenon. I have, these past 40 months, made the intimate acquaintance of a patient of mine, Dr Chuckle. Dr Chuckle, to all opinion, is a jolly good sort of fellow. What he lacks in stature, he more than makes up for in mirth and compassion. It would not be unheard of for the two of us to while an afternoon playing games and singing songs. I have of late, however, noticed a remarkable change in his demeanor. Come dusk, and the time lay his head upon his pillow and fall into a peaceful and rejuvenating sleep, he morphs into a most undesirable character: Mr Cried. He wails and screams and curses the heavens till I know not what to do. "I HAVE TO PEE!" he cries. And then sits in the water closet but will not relieve himself. "I WANT TO WEAR SOCKS!" he belts. But he will not don a pair, nor will he deign to have someone cover his feet. "I WANT MUMMY!" he bellows. Or, if his mater is present, he calls for his pater. Nothing can be done to assuage him. No answer is correct. I had noted that this dubious change took place at the same time as my estimed colleague, Mr Earth, was called away on dramatic business. I thought the absence of Dr Chuckle's preferred playmate was at fault. However, Mr Earth has since returned from said business, and the antics of Mr Cried have multiplied, not diminished. Come morning, all is as before, and if I confront Dr Chuckle concerning his behaviour, he denies any knowledge of the events. Occasionally, he will issue an insincere apology, with no light of comprehension in his eyes. It is a most distressing transformation in an otherwise utterly congenial patient. I am loathe to allow this behaviour to continue, for fear of joining him on the dark side, reduced to tears and woe myself. Estimed colleagues, be warned. While Dr Chuckle is a most admirable sort, approach him with care should evening fall.

15 comments:

motherbumper said...

"Occasionally, he will issue an insincere apology, with no light of comprehension in his eyes." Ah yes, far too familiar, as I too have a patient like this. Her transformation also takes place at dusk, when night falls. Perhaps they are possessed or worse yet, preschoolers.

womaninawindow said...

Hey, the longer he takes with his list of ailments the more you get to charge, right? I guess that's not much of a consolation if he won't leave your office in peace.

Susanne said...

Um. This too will pass?

I think it's not an uncommon ailment. And then one day, Dr. Chuckle will be back.

Just breathe.

(I know. Very helpful. And, as often, I'm playing catch-up with my feed reader again. So. I really liked your last five posts. Really.)

Mad said...

And the answer is ... 3. Oy let's talk about bedtime socks.

You've captured 19th C prose perfectly here m'dear.

BlocksofStone said...

Hmm. Perhaps our boys are spending too much time together?

Beck said...

I'm so mean because I just laughed and laughed all the way through this. HAHA!

ewe are here said...

He's three, right? Right?

Ask me why I know this... go on... ask me.

Sigh.

I know this child. Or his twin.

Double sigh.

kittenpie said...

I love the writing of this... note perfect!

And is he three now, perchance?

Our answer has been to fulfill the needs to such an extent as to remove any reason to come out of his room, and view her entire room as the equivalent of her former crib. So: she has a sippy cup of water on her night table. She has a potty in her room. She has her dresser full of clothes. She has her blankets, pillows, doggy-babies, and a nightlight. And opening the door is not allowed.

It seems to be working, except on the rarest of crazy overtired nights - like last night, when she went to bed wailing because she was nto allowed out. Ah well, she was asleep fast!

2KoP said...

Our youngest of six was the perfect child until age 3.5, when he sprouted horns, a tail, a forked tongue and a wicked temper. Two words of advice:

1) walk away from any tantrum symptoms. These people can smell fear and will use it against you. Be strong — you can ignore it.

2) warn all interested parties (husbands, siblings, babysitters, grandparents) NOT TO GIVE IN. My husband and I held firm, only to discover that the older sibs were caving in to the huge lung power of the little tyrant.

FYI, true apologies come much later. The monster in question did wake me at 2:30 one morning, sobbing, to apologize for saying "Shut up, stupid, stupid, stupid" to me, his one and only mama. In our house, the only true swears are "shut up" and "stupid", so you can see he was in big bad ugly trouble. It took all my energy not to laugh hysterically.

Don Mills Diva said...

This? Was brilliant!
Loved it, loved it, loved it!

Mimi said...

At least you are maintaining your sense of humour ...

bren j. said...

Wow. You're persevering AND keeping a sense of humour. I am wowed.

Kyla said...

Genius. This was great.

Kidlicious said...

You are amazing with words. Loved this post and can relate x2.

Christine said...

this was super clever, but i bet bedtime is a nightmare!