Crying “Foul!”

Donnie took Eli and Jonah to get flu shots at the health department today, as the pediatrician is all out of doses.

Now, Donnie has not yet had the unique pleasure of taking our youngest child for shots. I’ll give him kudos for being at most of the infant and toddler vaccine appointments with our older two sons. I couldn’t bear to watch them get pricked, so he’d go along and hold their little legs down. With our firstborn, I’d just stand in the corner and cry. But by the third child, I wasn’t so sensitive anymore.

I still don’t like the experience, mind you, but I can deal with it OK now.

Even though Jonah gives “Scream like a Banshee” a whole new definition.

There is an ear-piercing, toenail-curling, glass-shattering pitch to his fits that one cannot soon forget. Couple that with the Apted stubborn streak (yeah, Apted, I’m blaming your gene pool) that drags an ordinary protest into an extra-long fit (because he wants to make sure you know he’s unhappy) and boy Howdy! Taking that child for shots is just a jolly fun experience all-around.

So, yeah — I’ll admit — I got a little giggly over the thought of my husband getting to experience this horror for the first time ever.

They weren’t gone long. Actually, they returned so quickly, I was afraid Jonah’s antics had gotten them thrown out of the clinic.

Eli came inside first, breezing past me and throwing his jacket onto a chair.

“How’d it go?” I asked.

“Fine. Didn’t hurt at all! All I felt was this.” And he walked over and lightly pinched my arm.

“So how did Jonah do? Did he scream and cry and thrash around and embarrass the heck out of Dad?” And I’m smiling as I ask because I know he did. I’m practically giggling at the cartoonish image in my mind.

“Nope. Didn’t make a peep!”

That Eli! He is always such a joker!

“Ha ha ha. Very funny. Now tell me the truth — was it bad???”

“NO! I’m serious. He didn’t do a thing! He just sat there and said, ‘Hmmm’ after they pulled the needle out.”

I still think he’s kidding. Eli has been to most of Jonah’s doctor appointments and he knows full well how bad it can be. He has to be playing around with me.

So Donnie and Jonah come into the house.

“Donnie,” I said, incredulously. “Eli says that Jonah didn’t cry at all. He’s kidding me, right?”

“Nope. He didn’t make a peep. I pulled his pants down, held him on my lap, and he just made this little ‘hmm’ sound when it was over. No big deal.”

And now I’d like to invite you to my wake, which will be held at the church. And in lieu of flowers, I’m requesting donations be made in my memory to the Scorned Mothers of America Club.

If I were the cursing type, I’d have put a big ol’ “W-T-Letter-After-E” here.

Seriously, Jonah? Seriously???

One time. That’s all I wanted, just one time for my husband to experience what I’ve had to deal with every stinkin’ time the child has gone to the doctor since he was born.

See this shirt? It’s a little hard to read, but it says “Dad’s #01 Fan”.

I guess that says it all…