I took my mother to the doctor today, and had an interesting experience in the lab waiting room. A cherubic little boy of about four was sitting on the floor playing with blocks. He had the kind of face and eyes that make people want to rush home and make babies of their own to look at. He sat there stacking blocks, singing sweet little songs from Sesame Street, and occasionally interspersing the lyrics with Mr. Rogers quotations. The waiting room was crowded and everyone was practically hypnotized with enchantment at the very essence and being of this beautiful child.

“Rubbie duckie, you’re the one, you make bathtime lots of fun, so won’t you be my neighbor, on my way to where the air is sweet, I thought you would, I thought you were, rubber duckie I’m awfully fond of you, doo-bee-doo-doobie- SHIT ! FUCK ! SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT ! FUCK FUCK! It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor, every day when I go to play in my tubbie, some people are fancy on the outside, SHIT ! FUCK ! SHIT SHIT SHIT!”

Oh, did I forget to mention the Tourette’s?

I think some of the older people in the waiting room noticed.