J had a vacation day about to expire, so he unexpectedly took Friday off! Yay! Did we take the day to do something fun, like the Firehouse Craft Drop-In? Or even industrious, like paint our exposed joint compound? Nope. Instead I seized the opportunity to sign everyone up for some poking and prodding. Everyone but J. He got signed up for baby wrangling and tantrum control.
You're welcome.
We just switched pediatricians after Joe was born, so it was Sam's first visit to the new place. We LOVED our old pediatrician, but he was located in a big building downtown, with an elevator, and parking at least 50 yards away. Hardly ideal with one little boy who cannot be trusted to stick by my side. The thought of having to stroller it with two , well, we had to bid them farewell.
They were nice enough to schedule both Joe's 3 month visit and Sam's 2 year, back to back. Sam went first. He loved the waiting room toys, was cool once we got in the little examining room, but when the shirt and pants come off...look out. He totally freaked. There was much crying and pleading and general carrying on. Luckily he wasn't due for any shots. Then the doctor suggested a lead test. Considering all the renovations we just completed, I agreed it was a good idea, but it required that she take some blood. Watching the wrestling match J was having with our tear-sodden toddler, she suggested that Sam go play in the waiting room while she took care of the Joe part of the visit. Brilliant idea! Simple, but one I would have never come up with. Because when babies start crying and screaming, my brain turns to goo. So I was thankful as J got Sam dressed and walked him out. At least Sam wouldn't have to witness his little baby brother get stabbed with needles. No fun.
Once the baby torture was complete, they went and retrieved J and Sam from the waiting room. As I nursed away Joe's tears, I dreaded the inevitable replay of Sam's earlier scene. Jay came in, Sam pleasantly chattering about the impressive selection of trucks in the lobby. As Jay sat down, and propped Sam up on his lap, the doctor grabbed his little finger. I did my best to try and get him to look away, but it was no use. His inquisitive nature had him honed in on the instrument in the doctors hand. He watched as she brought it down on his finger, clicked and squeezed. And as she took the small clear tube to the bead of blood, he asked, "Sam try?"
That's my boy. Take off his pants and he's a blubbering mess, but poke little holes in him and make him bleed? He wants to give it go himself.
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