Surgery

One rainy and dreary afternoon, Son #1 pulled out his tool kit and marched decisively into the office.

He announced.  "Mama, I'm going to fix you."

"Oh really."  I replied.

Son #1 produced his screwdriver and ordered me to hold out my hand.  I meekly complied.  After a few twists and turns, he informed me that the procedure was complete.

I was delighted.  "Thank you Son #1!"  I exclaimed.

"Call me Doctor Son #1." was his terse reply.

"OK Doctor."  I responded breezily.  "I guess I'm all fixed up."

"No.  Not yet."  The miniature doctor disappeared into his room and rustled about in his toolbox.  A few moments later, he reappeared with his hammer. 

Thump!

Whack!

Thump!  Thump!

Apparently, my arm was lumpy and needed to be evened out.  The miniture doctor examined his work and then sighed.  He walked out of the office to his room in search of another tool.

I called out.  "Are you finished?"

"Hang on, Mama."  He replied.  "I'm almost done.  I just have one more thing to do."

He rounded the corner with a SAW in his hands. 

Hmm.  I think I'll get a second opinion.