Della

Story By Gracie Prior

The elephants were blue, the giraffes were bright orange and the lions were green. This colorful menagerie walked the walls of my pediatrician's office. I sat holding Scooter on my lap. He was in for a M.M.R. shot. He didn't know what was coming. He held a small plastic car in one hand and a "little person" in the other. The two pieces could fit together, but Scooter hadn't figured that out yet. He kept swinging them both in the air and exclaiming, "Car go. Car go."

I was preoccupied counting how many times the pattern of animals repeated itself around the wall when a woman opened the waiting room door and announced, "Scouter Rynolds." (My son's name was Scooter Reynolds. I assumed they were looking for him.) Before I could reply, I looked up and saw something amazing. This nurse who had a lime green smock also sported a pair of vintage blue sparkle cats-eye glasses. She smiled and called, "Scouter."

"Here, here," I said. I moved Scooter to my hip and took him near this apparition.

"This is Scooter," I said. "Scooter Reynolds." The woman smiled a toothy grin, did an about face and marched through the door and down the hall., Scooter lay against me. Did he suspect something?

Della, whose name was embroidered in blue on her smock, led us down the hall. We entered the third door on the left. Upon our entrance, she took Scooter and plopped him on the papered changing table.

"Let's have a look," she said. She took his temperature and his blood pressure. When she squeezed the bulb, Scooter looked at her and tried to squeeze it with his other arm.

"That's a smart little boy," she said. She bent near him to take the thermometer out.

Scooter reached up and grabbed her glasses. "Petty," he said.

I took his hands off and apppologized to Della.

"The doctor will be right in," Della said and left.

Scooter looked around. He had dropped his toys. He gazed at me sheepishly from under long brown bangs. "Petty."

I picked him up. The doctor, who was short and stocky and had a comb-over, came in and got to business. He checked the chart, asked Scooter's age and got the shot ready. The site was prepared. I was nervous. Scooter wasn't too good about things like this and he had a long memory.

The door flew open; Della popped in and smiled at Scooter. She gave him another plastic car and got up close and said, "Petty."

Scooter reached up to get the glasses with his right hand. The doctor jabbed with the left. "Petty," Scooter said. He pulled the glasses off and looked at them. "Petty."

I gave them back.

We smiled and said bood bye. Some days are beter than others. This day was great, all because of amazing Della and her blue sparkly cats-eye glasses.
(Hope you got a chuckle out of my little story. Till next time, Nancy)