Do you ever look at your partner and think about what future you will have together? I used to always look at my partner and start wondering how our kids would turn out. For example, whose eyes will they inherit? Whose hair colour will they have? Will they need glasses? Who am I kidding, both myself and my husband are as blind as bats – of course they will need glasses! Lo and behold, our eldest child is six years old and we are quickly seeing the need to book a children’s optometrist. We’ve noticed that our daughter is displaying many of the similar signs I displayed when I was younger and was struggling with vision. I’ve noticed she’s squinting a lot, and when I ask her to read out a sign from afar she says it’s blurry. I was exactly like this at her age. Unfortunately, my parents, being immigrants, thought this was normal behaviour for a child. I told them for years that I thought I needed glasses. They refused to believe me and said that I simply needed to concentrate more. It wasn’t until I was midway through high school and had gotten a teacher to convince my parents to take me to an eye doctor that they started believing me.
I don’t want my daughter to have the same struggles I did throughout schooling. I remember being sat in the front row throughout primary school and still struggling to see. It really impacted my ability to learn and my confidence for many years. My husband says he has stories very similar to this. Between my eyesight anecdotes and his poor vision, there was no way we were going to have a kid that wasn’t ever going to need to visit the optometrist. Cheltenham, where my parents live, has an optometrist I have visited a few times. I’m thinking of taking our daughter here as I know they work a fair bit with children, so they will be great at helping her feel at ease.
‘How many fingers am I holding up?’ I asked our daughter nervously, waving my hand in front of her face.
She gurgled up at me happily, then threw her bowl of cereal out of the high-chair.
‘You don’t think you’re going a little overboard?’ Linda rolled her eyes from the seat next to me.
‘I’m worried!’ I said, turning back to look at her. ‘What if she needs glasses?!’
‘She’s two!’
‘Exactly!’ I nodded. ‘Right about the age where she develops depth perception! We can’t risk her eyesight being compromised at this crucial stage!’
‘Is that true?’ Linda frowned. ‘That feels like it isn’t true.’
‘I read it in a book,’ I said, brushing her off. ‘Or online… it might have been a meme, now I think about it…’
‘Well, we aren’t finding a children’s optometrist to do a kid’s eye test on our daughter anytime soon,’ Linda said, snapping out the Sunday paper. ‘So, relax, enjoy your weekend with your family.’
I sat back, trying my best to release the knot of tension in the pit of my stomach. Emma chuckled happily, playing with a stray cornflake on her tray.
‘You’re still worrying, aren’t you?’
‘I’m her father, Linda!’
‘No, you’re a neurotic!’ she rolled her eyes again. ‘Fine, you want to get her looked at?’
‘Yeah,’ I frowned, suspicious that she wasn’t actually being supportive.
‘Then you track down an optometrist in the Bayside area who can see us on such short notice,’ she said, standing up. ‘And Emma and I are going to go to the park.’
‘But what if I find somewhere?’ I protested.
‘Then you’ll know exactly where to find us!’
She stomped past me, swooping down to pick up little Emma and cradling her as she walked to the stroller.
‘Are you taking the car?’
‘How else will we get to the good park across town?’
‘But how am I supposed to come and get you without a—’
‘Not my problem!’ Linda laughed, slamming the door shut behind them.