During dinner this evening we were discussing Joel's visit to the optometrist today and his need for bi-focals, which are long overdue in my opinion. In the course of the conversation, we remembered that Tyler's last eye examination was when he was around eleven years old. We just knew there had to be something wrong with his vision then, because everytime he got up to bat in little league games, he couldn't hit the ball. "Eeeeasy ooout!" The eye examination disproved our theory for the strike-outs, so we knew it was time to pursue some other sport, which was also long overdue in my opinion. (I have never liked baseball. They should institute a pitch-clock to speed up the game, as well as ban the chewing tobacco.) Soccer was the natural choice, and it soon became Tyler's favorite sport.
The day of Tyler's last eye exam turned out to be an embarrassing moment for me. We had an hour wait after they dilated his eyes, so we decided we would go across the street to the McDonalds and get some lunch. We walked up to the counter, and I asked Tyler what he wanted to eat. With a blank stare in the general direction of the menus, he said, "I don't know. I can't read the signs." Home schoolers sometimes tend to be a little sensitive about their reputation, so I went into this long explanation that my (eleven year old) son really could read, that he just had his eyes dilated, and so on, as if the cashier cared to know. She responded with a blank stare to rival Tyler's. It wasn't until we sat down with our food that I realized I was set-up. Tyler knew their menu by heart (how often does it change anyway), and he always ordered the same thing. I never should have asked!
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