They can't all be winners, kid
Okay, this is officially the lamest blog topic idea I have ever come up with, I think. But hey, maybe I'm wrong and it will be fun. We'll see.
This morning I had to take the Faerie to the doctor's office. She's officially three and a half now (my baby's not a baby anymore!) and so needs her shots.
If there is anything in the world that feels worse than deliberately taking your precious baby to a place where you know they will cause her physical pain, I don't know what it is. Seriously. With both my girls I practically need to be sedated before taking them for their shots. I get all teary and guilty and watch them walk around, happily oblivious, like I'm about to sell them into slavery or something. They're so trusting, you see. They know Mommy would never, ever hurt them. Their Mommy would never hold them in an iron grip while a total stranger gives them a puncture wound, right?
Wrong.
So I, feeling awful, walk my adorable little darling to the doctor's office, trying not to cry while she smiles and says hello to people and tells me she's so happy to see the doctor, she loves the doctor. And then we sit in the waiting room and look at a magazine together and I keep kissing her sweet little head because I figure in ten minutes she's not going to want to let me touch her at all, after I've thrown her to the syringe-bearing wolves.
And we go in to the office, and the nurse shows me the huge array of little bottles (three and a half means like five vaccines at once) and my eyes sting. And we take my beloved child's cardigan off, and we expose her arm and I hold it in place, and she's looking at the posters on the opposite wall like the obedient angel she is (the nurse told her to look at the picture), and all I can see is the enormous needle which appears to have barbs at the end of it and is also laughing at me, and I brace myself for the sobs and that "Et tu, Mommy?" look that the Princess used to get (once she basically cussed out the nurse--her language skills weren't up to the job but the collection of syllables pouring from her little mouth made her feelings clear enough).
And the nurse sticks the needle in. And the Faerie sort of glances down, like something mildly interesting is happening, and looks back at the posters.
The same thing happens when we turn her in my lap so the nurse can stick the other arm with the remaining vaccines (Half in one needle, the other half in the other.)
Not a tear. Not a peep. Nothing.
That is how awesome my little Faerie is.
So go ahead. Brag about your kids. Or your pets. Or whatever. Let's hear it.
(Bonus points if you recognize the quote I used in the title.)
This morning I had to take the Faerie to the doctor's office. She's officially three and a half now (my baby's not a baby anymore!) and so needs her shots.
If there is anything in the world that feels worse than deliberately taking your precious baby to a place where you know they will cause her physical pain, I don't know what it is. Seriously. With both my girls I practically need to be sedated before taking them for their shots. I get all teary and guilty and watch them walk around, happily oblivious, like I'm about to sell them into slavery or something. They're so trusting, you see. They know Mommy would never, ever hurt them. Their Mommy would never hold them in an iron grip while a total stranger gives them a puncture wound, right?
Wrong.
So I, feeling awful, walk my adorable little darling to the doctor's office, trying not to cry while she smiles and says hello to people and tells me she's so happy to see the doctor, she loves the doctor. And then we sit in the waiting room and look at a magazine together and I keep kissing her sweet little head because I figure in ten minutes she's not going to want to let me touch her at all, after I've thrown her to the syringe-bearing wolves.
And we go in to the office, and the nurse shows me the huge array of little bottles (three and a half means like five vaccines at once) and my eyes sting. And we take my beloved child's cardigan off, and we expose her arm and I hold it in place, and she's looking at the posters on the opposite wall like the obedient angel she is (the nurse told her to look at the picture), and all I can see is the enormous needle which appears to have barbs at the end of it and is also laughing at me, and I brace myself for the sobs and that "Et tu, Mommy?" look that the Princess used to get (once she basically cussed out the nurse--her language skills weren't up to the job but the collection of syllables pouring from her little mouth made her feelings clear enough).
And the nurse sticks the needle in. And the Faerie sort of glances down, like something mildly interesting is happening, and looks back at the posters.
The same thing happens when we turn her in my lap so the nurse can stick the other arm with the remaining vaccines (Half in one needle, the other half in the other.)
Not a tear. Not a peep. Nothing.
That is how awesome my little Faerie is.
So go ahead. Brag about your kids. Or your pets. Or whatever. Let's hear it.
(Bonus points if you recognize the quote I used in the title.)
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