No gifs today. I’m feeling like crap, and barely have the stamina to post. Apparently I picked up some Kid Crud at the Children’s Museum last week. Sorry.
The other day, Mimi and I took Anya on a girls’ day. Mimi had been sick for a couple of days, and I woke up feeling awful, but we had to go. On the agenda was Anya’s 5-year checkup, complete with shots, and we were trying to cram in some fun to make up for that. She hadn’t had a shot in a few years, so she’d built them up in her mind as being the worst pain ever. Anyone who has ever been a child can relate to that, I think.
So we went school shopping. Bought her some cute new outfits and a pack of fat pencils. She also got a toy, because Mimi. Anya was perfectly cool through it all. “Let’s go get my shot,” she kept saying. We’d remind her that her appointment wasn’t until later.
She was good in the waiting room. While getting weighed and measured. And even once we were in the exam room. But when the nurse came in to prick her finger, she fell apart. Much like I did on the operating table the day my son was born.
She might take after me, just a little bit.
She wasn’t just crying, though. Not my kid. She was screaming. She’s good at it, too – I believe she has a future in horror movies. It wasn’t funny…but it kind of was. The drama of it all. I had to struggle not to laugh.
The doctor came in. Anya was still crying, but she quickly calmed. She was wary, though. We had to reassure her over and over that the doctor didn’t have any needles with her.
Everything checked out great. The doctor left, and the nurse returned with her shot gear. Three shots. Anya lost it. Screaming and crying, clawing at me, at Mimi. The nurse and I had to bodily lift her and pin her to the table. I got slapped, repeatedly. The nurse was kicked a few times. But we pulled it off.
Fifteen minutes later, we were at Walmart. She’d earned an extra toy, Mimi said. Anya was calm. All was well. She showed her Band-aids to anyone who made eye contact with her.
Then we went to Chili’s. She didn’t have much of an appetite (none of us did), but she had fun playing the games. After we ate, she sat on my lap and snuggled close. “My mommy,” she purred. “I love my mommy.”
Later that night, as we snuggled in bed, we talked about it. I explained to her how some germs, like the ones I had that were making me cough and run a fever, are relatively easy to fight off. I should feel well again in a day or so. Other germs, however, can kill you. The shots help protect her from those germs. So even though they hurt, she had to get them because I don’t want her to die.
“I sorry I smacked you, Mommy. I sorry I screamed,” she said.
“It’s okay, baby,” I told her. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“I tough now!” she said. “I kill those germs dead!”
Yep. My little badass.