Probably Just a Small Internal Muscular Hemorrhage

This past Saturday the three of us went over to the Bomber's pediatrician to get seasonal flu shots. It's pretty great, actually, they don't give shots at regular appointments, but they arrange for a flu clinic for patients and their families, so we can all get it done at once.  Anyway, H-bomb has always been a pretty good shot-getter, but we made a tactical error this time - we should have had him go first, but instead we had him go last, and he was freaked out by the time it was his turn.  I doubt it hurt him at all, but he cried his huge crocodile tears, which he let fall pathetically down his adorable cheeks and make little teary stains on his shirt, and made his sad pouty face until we plied him with a shiny band-aid, stickers and gummy bunnies.

The whole rest of the day he was like Danny Kaye in White Christmas. Whenever he didn't get his way or was corrected or told no, he'd gesture pitifully at his "sore" arm and say "Mommy, I don't like getting poked!" Then he'd tilt his head, slump his shoulders and give a big sigh, as if he was wondering why we didn't feel guiltier about the awful thing we'd done to him.  I half expected him to burst into a spontaneous song and dance number about it. It was an Oscar winning performance, to be sure.  As long as he includes me in his acceptance speech, I guess it's all good.

Comments

[Moo]

But like Danny Kaye, he forgot which arm got the needle.