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Dr. Cornugon had a party last Saturday. And that the event in a mixed group, with a slight medical advantage, abounded in numerous stories about the offspring from such families, and we, with the consent of the participants, include a few:

One of my friends:

I applied for studies when I was 6 months pregnant. From birth, the child lived with us in the dormitory. Me - medicine, Husband - pharmacy. Willingly or not, the child learned to speak on medical and pharmacological terms. Hence, at the age of three, seeing Oak instead of Oak, the child shouted:

- Look: Quercus robur!

One gentleman on the bus noticed it and spoke in a friendly manner:

- But smart boy, you will probably become a biologist or a doctor?

To which the three-year-old stench replied:

- Certainly not! I hate pathophysiology !!

* * * * *

The same child is 4.5 years old, the first day in kindergarten. How are the kids, interesting, they chase everything, collect everything they can from the shelves, tear at each other what better toys. Image of Sodom and Gomorrah. The kindergarten teachers, most likely accustomed to the first day in kindergarten, in the following years squatted in a corner and timidly try to arrange some order. A child brought up by eternally learning parents in peace and quiet did not hurt, made a tube out of cardboard and, if it does not scream:

- SILENCE!!! THE PROFESSOR IS GOING !!! WE ARE MAKING A PATHHYOLOGY CARD !!!

The children sat down politely, very scared, and the medically distorted child started distributing cards ... The preschoolers also sat down speechless. I wonder if they passed ??

* * * * *

The growing older and more distorted by the parents' studies, the child is already 5.5 years old, and for the child's mother it is more and more stress related to the first examinations of "large" clinical subjects. After the pediatric test, mom took her son with her to check on the notice board how she went. As the child was mingling with many other medical students, she had already learned about their worst fears. And so the most worried of the pediatricians, Professor A., ​​who was known for the strangest examination questions (I remember one thing: "a child of several years is lying in a meadow, a goat grazing next to it, what is the child sick of?" - the reward for the correct answer will be the traditional roll with brawn - does not apply to Krakow students and graduates of medicine). So, seeing the crowd in front of the blackboard, the baby, who could not bear the crowd, screamed:

- THE PROFESSOR IS COMING ...

The panic that followed was incredibly picturesque, with two people capsized and almost trampled by others. After a while, however, the students realized that it was only a fool of the child, and the red and densely explaining mother did not know what to do with herself. But the crowd is back. So the baby again:

- HERE IS PROFESSOR A. !!!!

Nobody paid any attention to it, the greater the surprise was that after a while professor A actually came around the corner, and completely ignoring the petrified students, he approached the child asking why he was so afraid of professor A.? The resolute child began to quickly mention what a terrible man he is, how he bothers people, that his mother cannot sleep at night because of him. For the first time in her life, the mother prayed earnestly that her progenitor would have something to do with the speech apparatus, some sudden drooling or some other paralysis of the tongue, but the child calmly continued the whole litany he had heard from his mother and her friends from the dormitory. The professor's kind smile disappeared more and more as he listened, and the gathered students sent the child's mother glances more and more saturated with "love" and "cordiality". Finally the professor interrupted the child saying, "But I am professor A." To what the child: "Eeeee, you are not as scary as mom said. Will you take me for ice cream?"

For the next hour the mother prayed that the professor would not ask for the child's name. Apparently the prayers were answered….

* * * * *

Another medical child, raised in a medical dormitory, went to kindergarten at the age of three. During the first drawing class, a sacramental question is asked:

- What colors do you know?

Young Medi responding replies:

- Karo, Kier, Pik and Trefl ...

* * * * *

Another, this time a 15-year-old child, who had a traumatic childhood provided by the parents of both doctors, who turned around 90% of friends from the same industry. Rotating in the sense, and this is a party, and this is a bridge, and this binge (pouring specialization, doctorate, first successful surgery, etc.) comes from school. She was enrolled in a class with English and extended French as the language of instruction. She returns depressed to the limit. Crying from the threshold. A caring mother, hugging her child, asks what happened. Here follow whispering explanations that the child is the worst in the class, he will not become his dream diplomat, French is "the language of gays and zoophiles" and she will learn it, be the worst and hopeless at all. Understanding all this, the mother comforts the child in every way, listing the achievements from the previous school and awards from the English Olympiad, etc. If this does not work, she tries to convince her that many other professions are related to diplomacy and politics, and in international relations a perfect command of English is certainly enough .

The pacified child catches fire at some point:

- Mom, when it turns out that I am a complete retard, I can still go to medicine, right? (here is the scandalized look of my mother, offended by the fact that she was equated with idiots) Well, looking at your friends, it's probably not difficult studies, right?