Developmental Nazis: The Return.

After our last visit from the Developmental Nazi, I was told that we were going to adopt a wait-and-see strategy for Munchkin's lack of language. But apparently, once the the coven of DNs got together to discuss this reasonableness, this far too sensible approach, they decided it was better to throw the agreed upon plan over for a more entertaining make-the-kid's-mother-completely-insane proposition.

Today, the DNs will return -- en masse -- to evaluate my son. And once again, I face the visit with impatience and frenzied cleaning. And here's me thinking I wouldn't have to mop again until after the new year.

I doubt that this visit will be much different than the last one. And yet, I'm still stressed about it. So much so that I found myself telling the Munchkin that I would buy him his own mini Ferrari if he would just recite a soliloquy for our visitors (and maybe that I'd get him a hooker to match if he was willing to do the St. Crispen's speech from Henry V). But he seemed to resent the fact that I wanted him to kowtow to these folks and perform like a trained monkey. Ungrateful little snot.

And now I must finish cleaning before they arrive. I've skipped the lemon juice altogether this time and used storebought mop solution. So if Munchkin starts licking the floor this time, at least he'll get a good buzz. Hell, I might take a lick of it myself. Just to calm the nerves.