Found out a few days ago that Cleo might need glasses. She'd been complaining that she couldn't read clocks so I took her to the pediatrician and they recommended she see an eye doctor. The earliest appointment I could get was January 2; we have a strict family policy of needing medical attention or appliance repairs primarily during holiday weekends, so the Christmas season is the Holy Grail of inconvenience for us. In fact, we've hit the inconvenience trifecta this time, since January 2 is also smack dab in the middle of Sweet Talker's Bar Mitzvah Weekend Musical Extravaganza. We've already chosen three frame candidates so we can zip down the street between Bar Mitzvah festivities to order the specs if she in fact needs them.
I'm sad. I always supposed my kids would need glasses; I wear them, as does every member of my family, so it seemed inevitable. But Cleo! Cleo has THE. MOST. GORGEOUS. hazel eyes I've ever seen, the exact color of gingerbread cookies. They're irresistible and it's a good thing she's not on the Dark Side, since she can charm me into doing practically anything she wants just by turning those big browns in my direction. And now those stunning golden masterpieces will be hidden behind spectacles.
Sigh.
