Bravo Docteur!

Où est Bernard?

OhBoy had to have an injection today, so we made our way to the doctor's office armed with the vaccine (it's bring your own) and his carnet de santé, and one million plastic dinosaurs. Thankfully the waiting room was empty when we arrived so he felt free to leap and rampage and destroy the magazines unimpeded. Until we were joined by Bernard. A grey-haired gentleman, with copious mustache and hirsute ears and nose pores who had evidently left his child-rearing days a long way behind him, made a bee line for the corner and buried his muzzle in Le Point.

After an obligatory silent observation period, "MAN!" OhBoy shouted in English, I will spare you the capitals for his entire dialogue, but suffice to say the boy is always using his outdoor voice. "Hello, Man! Whasyourname Man?... Maman! See the man there!"
Bernard (for it was he) remained stoically silent, despite the fact he was less than 3 feet away from a small stick of dynamite clothed in Petit Bateau. "Wazyourname?? I'm Boy!... I'm Boy! (the second time he pronounced his name in French for good measure)" "Maman, who's that?" A tiny finger, held very close to his cheek, gestured in Bernard's direction.
Maman remained stoically silent, despite the fact I was less than 3 feet away both from OhBoy and from the overpowering reek of leek and potato soup coming off Bernard. As happens so often,  I felt rooted to the spot, zapped by the pure exuberance of OhBoy in these situations. I hope I'm coming off more zen than irresponsible.

OhBoy arab-springed over to Bernard's side of the room and peered around Le Point. Maman was, once again, strangely slow to react, but had time to pray he wouldn't comment on the soup-stench. "What's your name, man?" - Silence. And then...
"Bernard." said Bernard.  "....et toi?" Bernard looked pretty zapped himself at this point.
"I'm Boy!" shrieked OhBoy, delighted. The doctor came in and called Bernard into his office ahead of us, leaving us to read "Où est Charlie?" while Bernard's legume smell dissipated.

When our turn came the Boy was very brave and too intent on grilling the doctor on his name and that of every object in the room to pay much attention to the enormous needle going into his thigh. "Well done darling, you're a brave boy" I whispered as a plaster was applied to the injection site. "Bravo docteur!" he said, "you're a brave boy too!"

"Au revoir Madame", the brave medic said as he saw us out, and then, conspiratorially, "That one needs to smoke some "marijuana"!"

"Thank you Doctor. I'll take a prescription..."