Because I suspect my daughter inherited my allergies, I take her with me to get my weekly allergy shots. I make an outing of it; after my shots, we do a little shopping and eat out. If her father is at work, it’s a girls’ night; if not, it’s a family outing. And they’re usually a lot of fun, except for the shot part.
It really distresses her to see me get shots. It hurts her more than it hurts me–no lie. And, being my daughter, she’s ready to do battle with the nurses who give the shots.
This week, I tried leaving her and Daddy outside. It was a beautiful afternoon, and what 2-year-old can get enough time outside? No dice, though; as soon as she saw where I was heading, she followed me in.
Mayhem. She tried to bodily drag me from the room, scolding the nurses as we went. Her father had to come collect her before she had a complete meltdown.
And then she was mad at me! I suppose it’s too much to ask that she’ll outgrow these allergies without incident.
At first the nurses found her distress charming. When stickers and candy couldn’t assuage her angst, though, their patience wore thin. Now I think they wish I wouldn’t bring her.