The Sons Of Thunder Take A Shot
There are certain times when a bribe is needed.
Such was the case recently after picking up the Sons of Thunder from school. We headed off to get ice cream.
“You guys are the coolest,” they all said. Yeah, well, we’ll see.
After snarfing down their chose treats, I turned to them and said, “guys, I’m sorry, but we have to go to the doctor. You all need to get a shot.
Wait for it. In 3 ….2….1
WHAT!!!!!!!
And what proceeded next pretty well summed up their characters. The eldest immediately started in on the questioning. My middle son simply folded his arms across his chest and said, “NO.” And the youngest simply looked at me with this look of disbelief and betrayal.
This was going well.
So I explained that here in Oklahoma all kids needed a Hepatitis shot for school. And the eldest started asking a gazillion questions about what is Hepatitis, what kind of shot, why do they need it, what does Hepatitis do, can it kill you, why is water wet, and so forth.
The middle son was easy. He just started crying, with his arms still folded and pointed out the shot would hurt. Well, just a little, I tried to explain. “NO!!” Yeah, okay.
And then the youngest starts in about not wanting a “tie tis” shot and this was simply not going well.
Eventually, we get to the doctor’s office – this is after I have to use the one line I hate hearing from parents more than anything. The old “I’ll give you something to cry about line.” But it was getting pretty ridiculous trying to convince the middle eight-year-old that he was not going to die and to please let go of the seatbelt, now let go of the chair, now let go of the door, now let go of the bumper.
Fortunately the wait wasn’t too bad, because my mind was in complete overload trying to answer way too many questions from the eldest. And at the same time trying to convince the youngest I was not some Sith Lord, because he was still giving me that look.
So we get into the room and the nurse comes in. The eldest is asking all kinds of questions about the size of the shot, the middle one is in the corner crying about how it’s going to hurt, and the youngest is staying about as far away from me as possible.
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And then the nurse goes “hhmm” as she’s thumbing through the Sons of Thunders’ charts. It’s like when a dentist goes “oops.” There are just some things we don’t need to hear.
Apparently, the two older ones also need chicken pox boosters. And at this point, I’m afraid the Sons of Thunder pretty much lost it. Sons of Thunder they were not.
So the eldest immediately starts firing the questions. Fortunately, the nurse is the target this time and it takes her about 30 seconds before her eyes are as big as saucers. She simply cannot keep up.
The middle son does his “NO!!” thing and strategically places himself in a corner; arms folded. He is not moving.
And the youngest gives me that “one day you’re going to be old and need us to take care of you and we’re going to remember this day forever” kinda look.
Let’s just say what it is. They are royally pissed. And at me. For some reason the Little Black Dress is escaping their wrath. Heck, I didn’t even drive.
So the eldest goes first – being brave for his brothers. I always admire that about them. They can pretty much kill each other, and have come close on occasion. But when it’s them against the world – or a nurse with a shot – place your bets wisely.
So No.1 survives, but explains in great detail everything that is happening. And I’m trying to explain to him that doesn’t help his brothers, but what the heck.
No. 3 goes next, probably because he only had one shot. And it’s over before he knows it, but I still got that look one last time.
And after various pleas, threats, bribes and a rather loud “Now,” No. 2 finally uncrosses his arms, wipes the tears/snot away and steps up.
And completely stops crying. And doesn’t move a muscle or bat an eye on either shot. And he even smiles at the nurse. Then he jumps down (he rarely jumps) and asks “can we get a toy now?”
Right there I got hit with a life lesson. We spend so much time worrying about what will, or might happen. Yes, there might be some pain, but the inner turmoil we put ourselves through probably does the most harm.
What’s going to happen is going to happen. We can tie ourselves in knots. Or, we can just flip the dog, realize it for what it is, accept it and get on with life.
A great lesson about life, John. It EVEN works for us, senior citizens.
Thanks Betsy.
But you’ll never catch me saying the word “senior” around you. You have too much love of life.