We went to the pediatrician last week. Both Henry and Maren needed shots, although we decided to hold off on Maren because of her issues. We'll take her in later to catch up.
Henry was a bit nervous. That is probably the understatement of the century. I thought he might cope better if I mentioned the fact he was getting shots a while before our visit. Not the best plan. He was bipolar for a week. He would be watching a show or playing a game, happy as a clam, and then all of the sudden he would start balling and yell out, "Mom, I don't want shots!"
I finally told him that shots weren't a big deal. I likened it to his dentist experience-- he was really nervous about going, but it turned out to be a lot fun and it didn't even hurt. That BIG FAT LIE seemed to calm him down for the rest of the days and minutes leading up to the actual moment the nurse approached him with a needle, telling him, "Hold still-- it will only hurt for a second."
I don't know why it is funny to me when Henry gets shots. It always has been-- even when he was a baby. The look of surprise on his face got me everytime. He would be smiling and happy and then all of the sudden, BAM! I can usually keep it together, but this visit was a little different. Maren sent me over the edge. She hasn't figured out the difference between someone crying and laughing, so as soon as Henry began his panicked crying and screaming fit, Maren began laughing hysterically.
It was quite the fiasco. While I've got Henry in a death grip so the nurse can give him his shots, he's screaming and crying his fat head off. Maren's off in the corner sitting in her stroller laughing so hard I'm waiting for her to throw up the bottle she just finnished and I'm trying to stop giggling long enough to tell Henry it's all going to be okay. I'm sure the nurse thought we were all crazy! We all survived. I was able to get it together, Maren didn't throw up and nothing in Henry's world is so bad that a Happy Meal can't fix. Phew!
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