why can't we ALL just get innoculated for something?
Mitchell comes in from outside whining. Tennyson apparently pushed him down on the trampoline and he hit his leg.
"On the trampoline?" I asked.
"Yeah," he whined.
"I think you'll be okay," I said. "Unless you want to go to the hospital for a needle."
"No," he laughs.
"Actually, I do need to get you a needle."
He looks concerned - "Today?"
"No, not today."
I went into the kitchen for a phone and tried the clinic. All the best moms wait for the summer holidays before kindergarten to start phoning around to get their kids' shots and appointments up to date. Of course it's closed by now. In the meantime, Elliot and Mitchell are talking. She's bouncing up and down saying "I want a needle!" Mitchell responds by telling her that she doesn't get a needle, only him.
"Only me and Mommy," he says. "Not you."
"But I wanna needle!" she wails, breaking down into a hot toddler mess of tears and snot. I pick her up and give her a hug. "It's okay Ellie," I say, "You'll get a needle too later, okay?"
She calms down. "Okay."
I try to phone the eye doctor to see about making the kid an eye appointment. Apparently nothing is open until five anymore and there is again no answer. In the meantime Mitchell is carrying on with "Only I get a needle. Not you. Only me and Mommy. And I get a donut and a sucker."
"Mommy says I get a needle!"
"Nope. Just me. Only me and Mommy are going."
Commence more wailing.
Honestly. She doesn't get this from me. I was more like Jordan. I mean, honestly. Running through the PCU center and hiding in the bathroom before fighting tooth and nail to escape only to inevitably get poked with that needle and hate ones parents and all doctors, nurses and caregivers for hours after is a way more normal reaction. Being jealous because your brother gets a needle and you don't is just weird.
"On the trampoline?" I asked.
"Yeah," he whined.
"I think you'll be okay," I said. "Unless you want to go to the hospital for a needle."
"No," he laughs.
"Actually, I do need to get you a needle."
He looks concerned - "Today?"
"No, not today."
I went into the kitchen for a phone and tried the clinic. All the best moms wait for the summer holidays before kindergarten to start phoning around to get their kids' shots and appointments up to date. Of course it's closed by now. In the meantime, Elliot and Mitchell are talking. She's bouncing up and down saying "I want a needle!" Mitchell responds by telling her that she doesn't get a needle, only him.
"Only me and Mommy," he says. "Not you."
"But I wanna needle!" she wails, breaking down into a hot toddler mess of tears and snot. I pick her up and give her a hug. "It's okay Ellie," I say, "You'll get a needle too later, okay?"
She calms down. "Okay."
I try to phone the eye doctor to see about making the kid an eye appointment. Apparently nothing is open until five anymore and there is again no answer. In the meantime Mitchell is carrying on with "Only I get a needle. Not you. Only me and Mommy. And I get a donut and a sucker."
"Mommy says I get a needle!"
"Nope. Just me. Only me and Mommy are going."
Commence more wailing.
Honestly. She doesn't get this from me. I was more like Jordan. I mean, honestly. Running through the PCU center and hiding in the bathroom before fighting tooth and nail to escape only to inevitably get poked with that needle and hate ones parents and all doctors, nurses and caregivers for hours after is a way more normal reaction. Being jealous because your brother gets a needle and you don't is just weird.
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