I've been banned from going to the Orthodontist. Seriously. No pun intended.
This most solemn of dental decrees was pronounced by Chloe as she and I were walking out of the office from her last visit to the orthodontist.
Her edict came in a conversation that went like this...
"Mom, you can't come in to my appointments anymore. You need to stay in the car and wait for me there."
"Why's that?" I say.
"Because you make everybody laugh. And your loud voice can be heard all the way in the back too. The ladies that work on me end up laughing so much that I'm afraid their hand is shaking so hard that they're gonna poke me with something sharp when they're inside my mouth." Chloe rambles.
[I'm laughing.]
"This is serious mom!" she says with a stern voice. "It's really scary, if I get poked it'll be all your fault. You can't come in anymore."
Then she adds, "...or you just need to talk quieter...but we both know that'll never happen."
"Yep," I agree out loud. "That'll probably never happen. I'll try to stay outside."
[but you know that'll never happen either. The poor girl is gonna get poked...and badly. It's inevitable.]
A reverse back-handed compliment if ever there was one.
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