mouth of babes, again

I had this little patient this morning, nine years old, with a certain flavor of ADHD. She could shut up when it was time to shut up, but as long as it was okay to talk, she did constantly, and in a disinhibited manner. Every thought in her head came out her mouth. Most of them were very entertaining. She was also Haitian by descent, which will enter into our story shortly.

She started out by telling me she had her wallet with her, so I asked if she had a lot of money in it. No, she said, only a dollar, but she has money in the bank. However, they won't let her take it out. Well, that's good, I said, you're supposed to save your money. For what? she asked in a completely scathing tone. College? I don't want to go to college!

Why? College is boring. (Ed note: not when it's done right!) No, she was going, instead, to "find her husband." By this time I was, as you can imagine, dying. Oh, I said. You're going to find a rich husband so you won't have to worry about getting a good job, so you won't *need* to go to college. That's right. She then proceeded to tell me, in a charmingly racist manner, the ethnicity of the man she would marry, because her sister had informed her those people had money. Hint: Haitian dudes need not apply.

After a while, as she was watching what I was doing, she informed me she wanted to work at the hospital like me. Wait, I said, I thought you were going to marry a rich guy so you wouldn't need to work. She amended that--she's going to marry a rich husband *and* work at the hospital. I told her that was a fine plan.

Than she started asking me if I had seen Haiti on the TV, and I told her, yes, and it was very sad. Are you going to adopt a Haitian baby? she asked. Again, I was dying, but I did not feel it was appropriate to tell her I'd already been scheming to buy one in the DR for twenty five bucks. So I said, no, but I'd already sent some money to help the babies.

And this, people, is why I love my job.

xoxo