Stories from the Doctor's Office

A mother brings in her 6-year-old girl, she asks if she should bring the 3-year-old boy too, I tell her yes. At the next visit the girl comes in with her little brother, a little devil, sweet, the girl used to bring me a chocolate bar.

The boy sits down in the armchair and, looking at the treat, tells me "You know, I'm hungry." I open the package and give him half the chocolate and a piece to his sister. Right then the assistant tells me I have a call at the front desk, I go take it and come back, and the little gentleman calmly tells me "you know, I'm hungrier," so I give him the rest.

His little sister scolds him, "that was for the doctor," and he answers, "next time bring her a bigger one."

A 6-year-old girl, angelic-looking. She manages to build a good rapport with the professional. One day she arrives, and no sooner has she sat down than she asks the following question: "Doctor, do you believe in God?" This is a dangerous question, since it can put the professional in a difficult spot.

So I ask her, "And do you believe?" and she answers. My mom goes to church, she kneels, talks, and cries. I went and touched it, you know? It's made of wood.

Another day an 8-year-old boy tells me "you can't treat me."

Why not? I asked him.

"Because you're a woman and all women are bad."

Who told you that?

"My dad."

And your mom too?

"No, not her."

"Mine neither."