Emma came home from school tonight, climbed onto the top of the chair in which I was sitting, and started putting paper band aids down my shirt. She told me to keep quiet and hold still. I opened my mouth to ask a question but was quickly silenced.
"SSSHH! Who's the doctor here?" Emma demanded.
"Emma," I dutifully replied.
"Who's the doctor here?" Emma repeated.
"Um...Emma?" I ventured again.
"WHO IS THE DOCTOR HERE?" Emma bellowed.
"Doctor Emma," I answered meekly.
Every time I attempted to speak, the above exchange repeated itself. After many many many minutes, Emma finally declared me cured and said, "Your manger of love is all better and the boo-boos have gone to safety."
She then charged me 25 cents for services and gave me "anty-botics" for later.
"Thank you, Emma," I said.
"Who's the doctor here?" she shouted.
"Thank you, Doctor Emma," I sighed.
"Good. You may shake my hand and then leave," the doctor ordered.
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