Testing, Testing, 1, 2, 3 ...

Last Wednesday, we took Rain to an ENT specialist. Now, I see "we," because Tim insisted that he should go, though the appointment was flat in the middle of a work day. Even though we both decided that this test was clearly going to be a waste of everybody's time, somehow it was still important that we both be there. I think, deep down, I had this peep of paranoia that whispered, "What if this turns out to be a very big deal? What if Rain can't hear as well as we think?" These thoughts perhaps played in Tim's mind as well, so off we all went to the appointment.

The specialist gave Rain a hearing test in two parts. If you've never witnessed a toddler taking a hearing test, prepare yourself.

Rain, in her defense, has never been very ... um ... baby-ish. She's not one for cutesy faces and noises from adults, and there's nothing we can do about that. The specialist, however, decided early on that the way to get Rain to do his bidding was to cajole her with a sing-songy voice.

Picture this, if you will: Rain is sitting on Tim's lap in a sound booth. She can not see me. There is one window directly in front of her. All she can see is the specialist at his controls looking directly at her. The test begins.

Specialist: [high-pitched-adult-to-baby voice] "Raaaain! Where am I?"
Rain:[turns to look at one of the box speakers in the room where the voice is coming from]
Specialist: "Raaain! The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round! Where am I?"
This is the part where I had to look away. I could only picture Rain's expression of irritation. Tim confirmed her reaction.
Rain: [Says nothing, but looks dead straight at the guy in the window. Probably wondering why he's asking the same question when the man clearly hasn't moved.]
Specialist: "Oh, Rainbow!"
Rain: [Turns to look at speaker box to humor the guy. The specialist rewards her by, no kidding, turning on the light in a shadowed box in the sound room that has ...



That's right. A Stephen King-ish horrifying clapping monkey! From that point, Rain was justifiably terrified.]

Upon leaving the sound booth, Rain decided she wanted nothing to do with this man. I have never seen her give someone the cold shoulder the way she did to him. She did not flail about, but she simply would stare off to the side every time he talked to her. I mean, she would not look at him. Her stare was focused and dismissive. Ouch.

On a happy note (no pun intended), Rain's hearing is fine.