I see lots of kids in the course of a normal day in practice. They tear around the room howling like banshees. They tip the lego bricks all over the carpet and use them to make rayguns (or worse). They line up the cars in neat rows all across my desk, howl and screach when approached, laugh at my jokes (if they know what's good for them), or sit cringing in abject terror next to mum or dad throughout the consultation....
In other words they carry on just like kids everywhere.
Not so Grace.
Her parents must have been struck by some bolt of inspiration six years ago when they named her. She is otherworldly, and for ten minutes this morning I was captivated. Dressed in a simple white dress and white woolen cardigan she stood in front of my desk smiling and co-operative.
The consultation was entirely unremarkable. She has had earache for a few days after a cold, but is actually now almost better and needs no treatment, Mum just wanted it checked. But throughout her visit she was calm and stillness personified. Grace indeed.
To be fair her brother was equally well behaved and remained quietly in the background fingers twitching away on the Gameboy, but otherwise entirely unobtrusive. This must be what seeing children was like all the time back in the 1950s, but nowadays it was utterly remarkable and truly enchanting.