The little Nicolas Batum sat restlessly with his parents in the waiting room at the child psychologist’s office.
His mom looked over to him. “Stop fidgeting, Nic, you’re making me nervous.” She then glanced at her husband, who looked very much like he’d rather be anywhere else, and was staring at the floor determinedly.
“But you’re always nervous, mama. Ever since the school called you and said that I was being a bad boy. But I don’t know what I did wrong, mama.”
“Now’s not that time to talk about it, Nic, we’ll wait until we’re with the doctor.” Suddenly, she grabbed her son in a tight hug. “Everything will be okay, don’t worry!”
The receptionist spoke up from her desk. “Doctor Béliveau will see you now!”
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“What, you’re saying that I’ve got a freak for a son? Is that what you’re saying, “doctor”? Nicolas’ father said the last word with heavy emphasis and finger quotes.
Doctor Béliveau looked startled at the outburst from the large man, who was now glaring alternately at him and the patient. “Not at all, Mr. Batum. Not at all. I merely said that Nicolas’ problem, while benign at this point, could manifest itself in nasty ways in the future.”
“Don’t listen to him, Nicolas!” his mother said as she dabbed at her red eyes with a handkerchief and pulled her son close to her again. “The bad man won’t take you away from us!” Nicolas, for his part, seemed totally disinterested in the whole affair, and gave no response other than to continue swinging his legs from the chair.
“No one said anything about taking anyone away. Many, many children Nicolas’ age have certain violent tendencies, tendencies which sometimes do and sometimes don’t disappear with age. But your anecdote about him attacking a meatball sandwich, combined with the story about him stealing a ball from a classmate and punching it, well, it concerns me, I must admit. His obsession with punching balls is clear, at this point.”
“My son does not have an obsession with punching balls!” Nicolas’ father roared as he stood up. “Come on, let’s go, this quack isn’t going to be taking Nicky away from us!”
He grabbed his son and his wife and dragged them out of the office, Nicolas still seeming as if he hadn’t heard a thing. Once they were back in the reception area, he finally spoke up.
“What did the doctor mean when he said I liked punching balls?”
“Nothing, honey, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing. Everything will be okay. You’re a perfectly normal child, and me and papa love you very much, don’t we?”
Nicolas’ father continued walking, looking at the carpet.