This morning Margot underwent an upper-GI scan, which involved drinking a cup full of barium and rolling around to different positions while a radiologist scanned her digestive tract via x-ray. The test itself was punctuated by much hysteria, screaming, general refusal to participate, as well as multiple demands to be returned home right now. After an excruciating 20 minutes or so, we finally finished. Margot furiously stomped out to the waiting room (because, of course, we had to wait 30 more minutes and then go back for one final set of x-rays). She plopped herself in front of the omni-present hospital waiting room TV, muttering under her breath. I definitely heard the forbidden phrase "I hate" pass her lips, and was compelled to follow up:
Me: "What did you just say?"
Margot, staring at TV: (unintelligible muttering)
Me: "Margot, tell me what you just said."
Margot: "I hate barbarians."
Me: "You hate what?"
Margot: "I hate barbarians."
Me: "Did you say barbarians?"
Margot: "Yes. I. Hate. BAR-BAR-I-ANS."
Me: "What do you mean by "barbarians"?"
Margot: "Mom. I mean barbarians -- the stuff that Dr. Ngo made me drink for the x-ray."
