homicidal maniacs in utility-company trucks, and causes me to make funeral arrangements before any surgical procedure. This is THINKING TOO MUCH. I tried to distract her, tried to get her to play with the camera and talk about books, but the switch had been flipped, and from there it was into dozens of repetitions of, "I am not going to like this. Oh, I am not going to like this." (For me, the key phrase is, "I don't think I can do this." For the record, I've never NOT done anything that I'd first sworn 7200 times I "couldn't" do. But that does not give me more confidence the next time.)
(thank God for good nurses...we love our GP, but he RUNS AWAY LIKE A BIG CHICKEN every time a child has to get shots, just like I would if I were him). By the way--if you DON'T love your GP and his/her nurses and staff? Find a new one. Seriously. Life is too short to be annoyed by your doctor. Also, if MY GP is reading this, he should totally give Lisa an extra paid day off. He should also replace all the copies of Arkansas Cattle Business in the waiting area with copies of Mental Floss RIGHT NOW.
She'd already started crying before the nurse even came in to TALK to us. Again, so "me." So I had to respond by acting like...NOT me, and cavalierly brushing off all her terrible worries...as I recalled my own vaccinations at this age, when it took multiple strong male orderlies to restrain me. Oboy.
Oh, and kids? This look right here? This and just a few drops of mommy-guilt will get you a milkshake. And gum. And multiple bedtime stories. Milk it, kids.