My nephew, James, was given a little bag from Primary Children's Hospital filled with little things he can play with while his baby brother is receiving care. Most of the items were hospital related--doctor's gloves, doctor's hat, gauze, a hospital tube--but there were also a few play things--a little doll, a toy gun--things of this sort.
I happened to glance at Taylor wearing the doctor's hat and gloves and James laying on the couch playing the role of "patient." I began loading the dishwasher and was listening to, rather than watching them play. I heard this:
"Yep. Okay... Hmmm. Let me check this. Good, good. Let me see here," there was a long pause. "Well, I'm sorry, but it seems you still have a bit of a fever." And here I happened to glance over. Taylor was pointing the gun at James' face. James looked natural and resigned.
I was filled with three emotions: Shock, horror, and an immense feeling of hilarity. I have no idea who introduced Taylor to the philosophy, "If you can't cure 'em, kill em," but we'll be having a little chat.
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