A future rascal

Mum says I'm a future rascal!
This morning my mum had an appointment with the gynecologist to check if her uterus and all was ok after the birth. My mum is pathologically punctual and arrived at 10 o'clock, although the appointment was only at 10.15, but the doctor was nowhere to be seen so she just sat down in the waiting room and started staring at the walls...or something. The midwife that is normally also at these appointments passed occasionally (and with increasingly obvious embarassment) in the waiting room to let the growing number of pregnant women, new-mums, fathers and other accompanying persons know that the doctor was late, but that he would soon be with us. And so the time passed, and me, little Irene, who had been happily sleeping in the pram the first 45 minutes of this wait, soon got enough and started complaining so my mum had to pick me up and walk me around the waiting room and the hall to keep me good. At 11.30 the doctor was still not there, and my mum considered going home, but then the midwife passed one more time in the waiting room to say that the doctor had called to let know that he would be with us in 10 minutes, so she decided to stay on. But the two of us made an agreement! I was to be quiet and good as long as we would stay in the waiting room (so that the people, that were getting just as frustrated and angry as my mum was, would not be irritated to have a crying newborn baby there with them) but as soon as I would enter the doctor's room, I was to show how good I was at high-pitch, insistent, irritating, nerve-wracking screaming. My mum said it was a much better message to the lack-of-respect-to-his-patients doctor, than if she would have complained with him directly. And so, when the doctor finally showed up, and it was finally my mum's turn (she was the 2nd patient in line) I cleared my throat and as we entered the doctor's office I started a constant 85 decibel chorus, with a numerous dangerous-for-your-ears 115 decibel pitches at critical moments. My mum smiled through it all, as if I was sleeping through the appointment (the estivill-training has not been for nothing!), but the doctor (who did not even excuse how late he was) was not so amused.
-The baby is, eh, well signora?
-Yes, doctor, healthy as a horse, just tired of staying almost 2 hours in the waiting room!
Boom, smack, slap in the face...don't you dare being late again dottore if my mum has an appointment!

When we left the doctor's office I stopped the crying and me and my mum smiled to each other in a mutual satisfaction with a mission well accomplished. Then we walked together into the beautiful autumn day!