Disappointing Three-year-olds

That post title is ambiguous. It could have two meanings. If you ever doubted my background in linguistics, here's your proof. I know how to analyze completely useless phrases to show you that, they, indeed, are meaningless capable of having more than one interpretation.

I won't bore you with mathematical semantics equations, throwing lambdas around in an effort to show you the tiny scope of my intelligence the... yada, yada, yada. We're all yawning already, so I'll get to the fun part. The layman's term explanation (speaking of which, have you laid your man today? Just askin'.)...

So, disappointing can be an adjective, right? Like, "Oh my gawd. Your preschooler hasn't learned to read and write yet? What a disappointing three-year-old." (Use proper Valley Girl intonation pattern here for best effect)

Then, there's the other meaning, where disappointing can be a verb. Like, "Why, yes, I often spend my free time disappointing three-year-olds. It's one of my favorite hobbies." (Most likely spoken in a courtroom setting by a proudly dead-beat dad - or mom).

So, why the linguistics lesson today? I'll tell you. I don't have any three-year-olds around the house at the moment, so I think we can safely rule out interpretation number one. So, how could we have disappointed any three-year-olds today? Here's how (and I'll give all the necessary details, so you can duplicate the process on your own). We all know I've got this head cold or allergy thing (leaning toward the allergy explanation, by the way), right? So, I've been living in a where'd-I-leave-my-brain, it-was-here-a-minute-ago haze for a week or so now. I can't even blame it on the meds, either, because that foul-tasting stuff got neglected days ago due to lack of effectiveness. Even without the meds, I'm just not myself. I can barely function. Can't even really knit much. It's awful. The only thing I've been able to concentrate enough to do is cleaning, which is really strange since I normally can't even bring myself to do that.

Anyway, long story short... we went to playgroup yesterday, and I sat there in my foggy stupor listening to others chat. When it was time to go, I said good-bye to people and told them I'd see them tomorrow at the birthday party. *Ding Ding Ding Ding* I think you can see now where the three-year-old fits in. I even gave an approximate time for when we should get there, which is why the three-year-old's mommy called this afternoon to see where I was. Unfortunately, I didn't get to the phone fast enough. I got the message, though. Only one problem there. She didn't leave her number, and after ransacking my desk, I realized I'd lost it. Then, there was the little detail of me not remembering how to get to her home. That would have been resolved yesterday when I saw her at playgroup. Well, it would have if only I actually remembered that I was supposed to ask her.

This all brings me to ask how on earth you can sit and watch a three-year-old play, chat with her mommy, tell them you'll see them tomorrow and totally forget you don't know how to get there? Really. That's bad. And, that's how I've been feeling for days. I've decided to take a little trip to the doctor's office about this. I'm thinking the allergist would be my best bet. Haven't seen one in years, since pregnancy and breastfeeding don't mix well with popping allergy pills. Never seen one in France, so I don't even know how to go about it. Do you just make an appointment, or are there the "proper channels" to go through like in the US? Guess I'll find out. I'll try the direct route first. This ain't no HMO, after all. Wish me luck with the red tape.