The Practice of Medicine

I know that N isn't the first kiddo to get the words "adopted" and "a doctor" mixed completely the fuck up. (And just yesterday, wasn't that me who was bragging on his comprehension of adoption? What the hell do I know from comprehension.) But, surely, N is the cutest, little confused dickens.

While in the midst of grocery shopping in hell's little half-acre (some refer to it as Super Wal-Mart), we ran into a doctor that I work with. I introduced him to N, and N was his usual charming self (have I mentioned previous, without prejudice naturally, how incredibly handsome N is?). So, the three of us exchange the usual crappy pleasantries and chatted a bit while we were waiting at the check-out line. "I", N states with pride to Dr. From-My-Work, "was a doctor too, when I lived in Korea. Yes, I was a doctor in Korea." "Oh no, honey", I correct him gently but firmly, since as a general rule, doctors from where I work frown on casual, careless bandying-about of the title doctor, "you were adopted in Korea, not a doctor. It's not the same thing at all." "Yes", N continues emphatically, "yes, I was a doctor in Korea. The kind of doctor who stabs people hard, right in the finger and makes them bleed and then paints with their red red blooooooood." Dr. From-My-Work is now very horrified from this exchange, undoubtedly wondering what the hell we do at home in our spare time, and he moves on as quickly as he can. Which is okay with me really, 'cause I don't much like it when my "worlds collide" (work world and home world, in this instance). Checkout girl stares at my precious, precocious boy in a stunned yet oddly admiring silence. N beams back at her, sensing that he has another member for his fan club.

This might not've seemed to macabre to Dr. From-My-Work if he had known that a) N watched C have his repeat PKU test done and b) N recently had a lead screening done. So, stabbing and painting with the resulting blood seems a perfectly common doctor activity to him.