Abby had her 2 year well-child doctor visit this past Monday, which is also the day we registered my oldest for school, which is a huge fail in parenting in itself but hopefully all works out in the end. Really, I don’t even want to go there.
Before we registered him, though, my daughter had her appointment of torture where she was poked and prodded and not having any of it. She screamed like only she can do, filling the entire office area. The boys came along and they initially sat contently and watched in fascination, fortunate in the knowledge that it wasn’t for them. In fact, when the doctor walked in, Jedi quickly piped up and declared, “Only Abby’s getting a shot today”.
To which she did. A single vaccination.
Upon witness of the nurse carrying that one syringe into the room, though, both of the boys cowered. Buzz hid completely under their desk while Jedi scrunched himself into a defensive ball, like a roly poly. It’s amazing the trauma and fear a needle can project.
When Abby cried, Jedi flinched but Buzz cried real tears with her. She hollered for good reason, but so did Buzz. She was fine almost immediately after, while it took plenty of coaxing to pry him out of hiding. Leave it to her brother to steal her thunder. From the look of it as we finally left the room, it would appear he was the one who had the rough morning.
Her brothers felt her pain, dramatic movie of the week style, and it hurt. Though nothing a cherry-flavored sucker and handful of stickers couldn’t fix.