Yesterday was Caroline's 5-year well visit to the doctor. This meant she was getting a shot. We talked about it the day before because I've learned that springing anything on Caroline is about the worst idea ever. So we talked about how itchy, oozing sores all over her skin are probably worse than one pinch of a shot. You know, parenting at its finest. I promised her that she would get the shots as the very last part of the visit, so that she'd be able to talk to the doctor and not be worried about it.
As we prepared to head to the doctor's office, she started to stammer about not wanting to go. I reminded her that it was the very last thing about the appointment, and she would get to see Dr. E and Spot, her stethoscope dalmatian. That was enough of a perk, and she was over her hesitation.
The appointment went swimmingly until she saw Nurse Rica walk into the room with the little silver tray and a shot.
She clamped her hands over her arms.
"WAIT! No shots until the end of the visit! The very last thing! NO SHOTS YET!"
Nurse Rica told her it was the end of the visit.
"I'm not done yet!"
I started to talk to her about just getting it over with, not looking, etc., but she wasn't giving up. She turned to Nurse Rica, who was now armed and ready to go, to employ a new stall tactic.
"You're really pretty."
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