A Clockwork Orange

And so we went, somewhat filled with trepidation, for the final chore pre-school restart: the eye examination. Both Mrs. Ottawacker and I are to some degree legally blind, so we're always a little anxious when one or the other of us has to take Ottawacker Jr. for an eye test. Fortunately, he is made of stronger stuff. 

Despite rigorous tests that have nothing in common with the one-hand-over-your-eye stuff I had growing up (I always felt Evertonians were better prepared for eye tests as they spent 90 minutes each week with two hands over their eyes), the assembled team of optometrists, including a rather striking American Amazon, could find nothing wrong with him. Other than a little long-sightedness, that is, which will most likely correct itself once he discovers Playboy. So that's alright then.

** For the Playboy comment, it always amuses me that interfering with yourself makes you blind in England, but deaf in France. What else is it responsible for in other countries? Does it make you mute in Turkey and bald in Syria? Or does it just make you limp? (I'm here all night.)