Children’s Optometrist

‘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.