On Friday, I took Beth to the optometrist at the Plaza.
Her Chinese teacher says she's been squinting at the blackboard whenever she doesn't get a seat in the front row.
She can't read the lyrics on the screen either at Sunday services.
I had a weird sense of deja vu as Beth sat in the high black chair and read off the letters on the screen, and then had to tell the optometrist whether one cluster of dots was clearer or more fuzzy than another.
What a lot for a 5 y.o. to deal with.
I was quite proud of Beth for being able to cope (mostly) with the instructions and just the whole process of being tested. I know what it's like to sit in that chair. I did it every year from the time I was diagnosed with myopia... at 3!
Turns out Beth's a "minus 2" in each eye, which translates to 200 degrees.
We looked at all the frames available in the shop, but none met Beth's colour preference (green and orange), not even the delectable pink Barbie pair. She steadfastly refused to consider any of the frames, so we left empty-handed.
Mind you, in my day, I wouldn't have had a say. The decision would've been made for me on the basis of affordability and practicality, with no reference to colour or style.
I jested that perhaps we could just choose a frame and I would paint it green and orange.
If that's not creative thinking, I don't know what is.
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