Oh, the DRAMA of Shots!

Chase had his 4-year checkup at the doctor's yesterday.  We talked to him about it before the appointment, to prep him for the four shots he was going to have.  Chase did great with the prep and he loved the doctor and was having a great time in the doctor's office.  They came in to give him the shots and he was very cool about it. 

"Is it time for my shots?  OK!" 

He laid down and I asked if I could hold his hand (translation: hold his hands down) and he said OK.  After the first shot his expression changed and he said in a very meek voice, "Mommy, I don't want to do that again."  From that point he went downhill pretty quickly, but it was over with fast and we made a big deal of it.

"You're all done!  Good job!  What a big boy!  Let's get some ice cream!  Woo hoo!"

He would not stop crying.  The aftermath was so much worse than the actual shots.  You would have thought the boy was scarred for life.  We finally got him to calm down and start walking out.  Omigod....

The boy walked like a penguin, creeping forward a whopping two inches with each step.  He would not move his legs.  He whimpered the whole time and then occasionally he would stop and cry again, saying "I don't want any more shots!" to which we replied (over and over again), "Chase, you're done!  There are no more shots!"  We would creep another foot and he would burst into tears again.  "The band aids are hurting me!"  It was drama, drama, drama.

So we checked out and started the very slow, treacherous walk to the car.  When we got there and opened the door for him he just stood there and stared.  He was trying to find a way to climb into the car without bending his knees, and he burst into tears again, "I can't get in the car!"  I helped him and he cried harder, "Mommy!  Don't touch me!" 

We got to the ice cream shop and the poor kid couldn't figure out how to get out.  He finally did, then penguin waddled to the curb and studied it, once again trying to figure out how to step up without bending his knees.  He attempted it.  He failed.  Tears followed.  Brian tried to hold him up in the ice cream store so he could see all the toppings.  Wailing followed.  "Daddy, don't touch me!"  He then had to climb into the chair all by himself (because every time we touched him, we hurt him, apparently)... once again without bending his knees.  *sigh*

I managed to convince him as he penguin waddled through Wal-Mart afterwards that the awesome thing about ice cream is that it's magic, and as it goes through your body it finds the shot spots and fixes them so you can go super fast again (That's kind of his thing... "I can go super fast!  Watch!") and lo and behold... the ice cream found the spots and the kid was soon running through Wal-Mart like a madman.

I always knew ice cream was magic.

Chase had many dramatic lines throughout the day that were worthy of Academy Awards, but my favorite one was this: We were playing on the floor later that night and he had to get up to get something.  He looked at me before he moved, very concerned and serious, heaved a great sigh and said, "Mommy, I hope I can stand up."

Brian almost fell over.  I said back, very seriously of course, "Me too, Chase.  Good luck."

Yes, he gets his dramatics from me.