A Glimpse Into My Neurotic Mind

Charlie had his initial intake before being evaluated for Early Intervention services today. (Why you ask? Because he is biting at daycare and I need to pretend that I am concerned so therefore must have him evaluated for a speech delay that he doesn't have. But that is not the subject of this post.)

10 minutes before the social worker was to show up at the house I am pacing the floor. There's a *social worker* coming to the house I am thinking, and I didn't even clean the bathroom -- what if she has to pee? Worse, the age old problem -- there is a picture of a naked woman and a swan in my livingroom -- what if she notices it? Should I take it down? Should I apologize for it? (I have done that before: "Umm, sorry about the picture... my great uncle was... uhh... an artist..." No, I decide. I will not call attention to it. I will whisk her past it and we will sit at the kitchen table. I pace into the kitchen. Charlie is sitting at the kitchen table stuffing meat sticks into his mouth. For those of you who do not know, a meat stick is basically catfood pressed into a stick. It looks like catfood, it smells like catfood. It probably tastes like catfood, although I have not been brave enough to try one. I panic. Charlie cannot be eating catfood when the social worker gets here. I whisk the meat sticks away and give him cut up grapes instead. Yes, grapes are acceptable.