I hauled all of the kids to the pediatrician yesterday for flu shots. I'd been prepping the girls all week. I even gave them a quick pinch on their arms and told them it would feel kind of like that. They saw Ben and I get our shots a few weeks ago. We proudly showed off our band-aids and assured them that they, too, would soon be able to participate in the (almost) yearly ritual.
The baby cried for just a minute but because I was holding him, he calmed down quickly. My oldest went next. She felt the sting, stood there for a second and then burst into tears. Next up, the newly minted three year-old, who shook her head. The doctor was quick though, and deftly jabbed the needle into her arm. She then just sat there with her eyebrows furrowed, looking like she might growl at everyone.
Back in the car I congratulated the girls on their bravery. The oldest declined this complement saying she had cried. I conceded that this was true, but pointed out she was inclined to cry about a lot of things (she is my most emotional and dramatic child). And it was brave just to get the shot. The growler spoke up from the back, not caring about the bravery of the event. Her comment explained her reaction perfectly. "I was mad that I got a flu shot."