This morning she had an appointment to get a COVID vaccine.
The deal was: behave at the doctor’s and we’ll go get a donut after.
At one point last night we were about to cancel as she looked really really pale, but she still said she wanted to go in the am.
7:30am: Dad - get up. I need my shot.
Okay then. We get ready and all the way there she’s fine and we’re talking about whatever in the car on the way - good as gold. Sunny with no clouds in the forecast.
Still good into the Dr’s office even. This might be the one time we don’t have to hold her down and get kicked at.
Then the nurse came out and called her name and that did it - the drama and the fake “I’m scared” came out and then when by the time she was in full uncooperative mode.
The nurse, bless her heart - took the time to explain for probably the 100th today that the needle is like a little pinch but that this no good. Eventually, she hiked up her shirt, swiped her arm and gave her the stab.
It was so over before she even knew what happened.
And once it was? It was if it didn’t happen. That ten minutes of hell you put your old man through? - didn’t happen.
Then the negotiation really started. The deal was that if she behaved she would get a donut. This is where it gets tricky in parentville:
On one hand, it’s easy to argue that nope -you screamed and kicked - no donut.
on the other hand, you have to give her credit to wanting to go. She may not like the actual event but until the moment came to be she was actually quite good and brave.
The Verdict
I went with bravery. Others may not have - but I wanted a donut too and she’s not going to ruin my fun. :) I figure she gets a reward for wanting to go and that getting there was half the battle.
On the way home we decided that the word “shot” or “needle” for the vaccine is too scary and that from now on we are going to call it “the swiffle”.
So that’s the deal for next year:
Get the swiffle and get a donut - the same deal as this year but now with better branding. :)
Until Next Time, TH and Co.