The visit was fine. The sweet doctor let her ramble on about nonsense like what her friend Isabella brings in her lunch box, and why she doesn't want a haircut. She hopped on one foot and got weighed and told him that her favorite food is carrots (LIES). And every few minutes during the exam she asked, "when are the shots?" And he kept telling her, "at the end, at the end, it is the last thing." And she would dart her eyes around nervously and then breath an uneasy sigh of relief. And then it was the end of the exam.
In comes the nurse with a tray full of shots and a big smile. Her Highness immediately knew that this woman who had seemed so nice at the eye chart was in fact a huge fakey traitor and was not to be trusted. Nurse Ratchet and I pinned LadyB between the two of us in a WWE worthy move that kept her from squirming out, and in a blur of teddy-bear scrubs and ear deafening screaming, four rapid fire shots happened. That nurse moved with the speed of a person who has been punched in the face by a toddler. It was lightening. And then the howling started. Imagine a rabid feral street cat gets its tail stuck in a door, over and over again while having a hot poker stuck up its nose. Except louder. She cried, nay WAILED, until we got out into the waiting room. We got home, she got the rest of her My Little Pony bribe, and promptly fell asleep on the couch, after swindling some chocolate out of me because I felt so sorry for her.
Then she woke, and this is went down...
Her: I can't walk.
Me: Yes you can.
Her: I have to poop. Come carry me to the potty.
Me: Um, no. You can can walk.
Her: I can't. My legs hurt too bad from my Shocks.
Me: I think you mean your shots and yes, you can walk. Please don't have an accident.
Her: Why are you being so mean to me.
Me: Oh my god, just go to the bathroom.
Her: People are supposed to help each other.
Me: YOU ARE FINE.
Her: ***sob sob sob, cry cry cry, wail wail wail***
Me: GET UP. If you have an accident on the couch you are going to be in SO. MUCH. TROUBLE.
(at this point I am starting to get worried that maybe she has been maimed by the shots and she really can't walk.)
Her: Lets take a walk.
Me: ***dead silence and confused staring*** If you can't walk we are not going to go take a walk.
Her: You can push me in the stroller and carry brother in the B-Hole. (side note she calls the Bjorn the B-Hole. I promise we have corrected her like 1380 times)
Me: Stand up and just try. If you can't walk then we will need to go back to the hospital.
Her: ***stares thoughtfully at me then in a dramatic fashion that rivals when Jesus healed the lame man, she stands slowly and hobbles a few steps.***
Her: I CAN WALK...I AM DOING IT. (Meryl Streep would have given this a standing ovation and then quit acting forever because she would know that she could never be near this good.)
Me: ***more blank staring***
Her: I can't wait to show Daddy. Now, I am not going to have to use those things grandma used when she broke her leg.
Me: They are called crutches. Now please go to the bathroom before you poop your pants.
Her: ***skips off to the potty***
Crisis averted. She is in fact not maimed forever. She is however a drama queen who came thisclose to pooping on the couch. I am concerned we will have PTSD if she ever has to get the flu shot in the next few years.
Godspeed friends who have to do this appointment.
|And the Oscar for most dramatic Honey Badger goes too...|