A Long Shot

I was off today, and our only agenda item was going to a well-child check up for The Boy. With shots. 

Before 9:00 am The Husband had been to the store to get me juice for a possible UTI. Twice. I had peed 27 times. The boys had "helped" me bathe the dog. She had run, and run, and run, in big circles around the house the way dogs do when they're wet. And The Boy ran, and ran, and ran, chasing her in big circles the way boys do when their dogs are wet. BeYoYo had already put a toy salmon in the toilet, and as I went to fish out the salmon, The Husband unknowingly gave him cereal to eat out of toilet hands that hadn't yet been washed. The Husband fixed me quarts of pineapple juice with some apple cider vinegar for good measure. I started chugging. 

So this was where I was in my day when we headed out the door. Overstimulated. Tired. Peeing frequently. Not feeling well. 

We left with an hour to spare but two things to do before the doctor. I stopped by my friend Emily's house to drop off some baby clothes, and when she came to the door I said "I really have to pee!" and ran past her for the bathroom. Then it was off to Dunkin Donuts drive through to get a post-shots doughnut. We went ahead and got some doughnut holes for the office staff too.

The Boy had been an angel all morning. We showed up early to the office, and I unloaded the cadillac stroller and put BeYoYo in it to contain him during the appointment. The Boy loves to play in the waiting room, so I told him he had time. Then, as luck would have it, they were ready for us early. The Boy wanted to get more Mr. Potato Head accessories to take back in the exam room with him, and he'd already loaded his arms full. I told him no, and headed back. He didn't come. I left the cadillac in the hall and went back for him, but he was still trying to scoop up more pieces. I scooped him up. He was not happy. 

It was time for him to weigh. He refused. I talked to him patiently. He refused. I reminded him of his doughnut waiting for him. He refused.  I gave him The Eye. He ignored it. I picked him up and put him on the scale. He went limp. I shoved all his limp limbs onto the scale at once and asked the nurse if that would do. It would not. She coddled him, and he agreed to weigh for her. 

Next it was time for blood pressure cuff (aka testing to see if he had He-Man muscles), height, and vision check. He did great for all of those. We went in the exam room and I parked the cadillac with BeYoYo inside. The Boy became increasingly nervous. The doctor came in and checked him out, asked us some developmental questions, and we talked about his diet. All was well. She asked if he had any questions for her, and he asked her how old she was. 

Then nurse Tasha, who he loves, came back in to give the shots. He wasn't too keen on that. She told me how to hold him so she could best get to him, and he screamed. I don't blame him, it was rough, and he was having to be held down. It was over quickly, just like I'd reminded him. He didn't let that stop him from continuing to scream. I offered him his doughnut, but he turned it down. I held him and hugged him, and he continued to scream. Nurse Tasha asked if he wanted to go get a prize. He said he wasn't going anywhere with her, and clung to me. She offered for me to take him to get a prize, and he agreed. I held him, held the Potato Head parts, and pushed the Cadillac down the hall to help him get a prize. He didn't want anything to do with her. Thank goodness we'd gotten them doughnut holes. 

We got his prize and checked out. I put him down in the waiting room so I could get the Cadillac through the door, and he cried "but I can't walk!" and he puddled into the floor. I asked him if he wanted to stay and play with the Potato Head, and he cried "I want to weave here!" So we weft. BeYoYo waved goodbye to no one in the parking lot. Bye, Felicia. 

The Boy cried some more in the car. Surely it wasn't hurting as bad by then, but I think it hurt his feelings that Tasha would do this to him. I don't think he remembers having shots before. I offered him his doughnut, but he couldn't eat it, seeing as how he had to hold his prize in one hand and his injury in the other. I told him he was brave. He cried some more. In between sobs he said "shots", "stupid", "Gee-scusting", and "I'm never going back there ag-g-gain!" I told him he didn't have to have any more shots until he was 11. 

When we got home I helped him out of the car. He reminded me with a dramatic reenactment that he couldn't walk, so I carried him in and put him down on the sofa. He thought he *might* could eat his doughnut now. Daddy came in to check on him, and asked if watching He-Man might help. He thought it might, so Daddy found He-Man on YouTube. I brought him his lunch on the sofa, and told him he was getting to eat there because he had shots, but that it wasn't something we were going to start doing all the time. He tried to suppress a smile as he said "Can I do it again when I'm 11?"  Knock yourself out. 

As you may imagine, a little He-Man and a sprinkle doughnut on the sofa really helped him start to feel better. He was running around within the hour, but sometimes would stop to remind me how hurt he was. I was torn between compassion and laughing at his attempts at manipulation. He has been fine the rest of the day. But I would very much like some shots now.