Aidan got his first pair of eye-glasses. Thanks to Harry Potter and the nerd-is-the-new-cool wave, he is rather enthusiastic about them. Of course, being able to see things at distance can have that effect too.
The sweet ladies at our optometrist's front desk probably think I’m the world’s worst mother. I was skeptical for several reasons. Brian, as he likes to point out, has superior vision (at least until the 40s have their full effect on him), and I have an astigmatism that I only got glasses for in my 20s. I wear them all the time now, because being able to see details trumps vanity for me. Last year we got the dreaded letter from the boys’ school that Sean needed his eyes checked (Aidan’s were deemed perfect). We paid $80 for the eye doctor to tell us the school test was wrong and Sean had great vision. When a letter arrived saying Aidan needed to be checked this year, I was less enthused by the prospect of spending $80 for an appointment we didn’t really need.
So I arrived a bit cynical. It was already obvious that Aidan liked the prospect of wearing glasses. When they announced that he was near-sighted, I asked if they were really sure. Yes, they said, not seeming to understand my question. I asked again, this time mentioning my son was rather eager to need glasses and could they tell if he had tried his best to guess at the eye chart letters. I could see the woman struggling against an eye roll (thanks to my detail-besting glasses), and she assured me my son really did need glasses, that his prescription was stronger than her own, and having them would probably be amazing for him.
But, she added, he shouldn’t wear them when reading. Wearing them while reading would make his eyes work harder and cause problems. “He’s always reading,” I said. I’m sure they thought I was still trying to weasel out of spending money on my son. She smiled, “Oh, he likes reading.” Aidan more than likes reading. He always has a book on him. The idea of him taking his glasses on and off throughout the day at school seemed to ensure his losing the glasses.
Our sweet, kind and smart boy also happens to lose everything. He literally lost his baseball mitt in the middle of an inning while playing in the outfield. No one could find it. His lunch box twice this year. His winter hat every season. I have a lot of empathy for him in this area because for most of my life I was the same way. I left my purse on the Chicago El at least three times my first year of college before I gave up using purses altogether (until I had children…when I became much better at not losing things too).
Maybe it was because they thought Aidan had an uncaring, tight-fisted mother, or, just as likely, because Aidan was his charming self, the optometrist ladies took a shining to him and all his questions. They invited him back to get a picture taken of his inner eyeball and even printed it out so he could take it to school and show his friends.
And it has been almost a week since he got them and he hasn’t lost them yet!
This post is part of Rebecca Cooper’s Simple Things Sunday series, which she describes as “taking the time to photograph the everyday details…to enjoy the beauty in the ordinary and to be reminded of just how important the simple things are.”
Check back on Monday to learn the winners to all our February giveaways!
ETA: Aidan just read this (he’s at an age where I’m careful to give him editing rights on anything I write publically about him) and gave it a thumbs up. Though, of course, he thinks I should include the gross photo of the inside of his eyeball.