I started to title this “Short Story”, but I accidentally typed “Shorty Story,” and now I like that way more. Sometimes I don’t blog because I feel like it needs to be long and thoughtful, or long and spiritual, or long and hilarious. Sometimes it just needs to be shorty.
So, this handsome kid turned FOUR last month!
We had his well-child visit scheduled with his big brother’s, since their birthdays are one day apart. (Super fun, awesome, not-coincidence.) But it was near the end of the school day, so I had to bring all three angels to the pediatrician’s office. FUN! Nothing like trapping three wild kids in a 6×6 room for extended and uncertain period of time.
Sidenote: our little Thai man has been CRAZY healthy since he came home. Seriously, it is SUCH a blessing. He’s only had a fever twice, I think, and a handful of colds. That is it. I’m so terribly grateful! I don’t know what is in that Thai baby formula that he was drinking 8 times a day–yes, even at age 22 months–but this preschooler is strong and sturdy like an ox. He is in the 95% for both weight and height, continuing to shatter racial stereotypes. 😉
I have learned in our few doctor visits that he is DEATHLY afraid of shots. I don’t know if this is a psychological trigger from his time in Thailand, but he almost gave the nurse a bloody lip last year when she tried to give him the flu mist. THE MIST. No needles involved, but he didn’t care. PETRIFIED.
I debated my choices, and despite the disapproval from my 9 year old, I didn’t tell Asher he would be getting shots at this visit. I figured that just meant 3 hours of panic, rather than 3 minutes. When our favorite nurse came in the room at the end of the visit, he figured out what was about to go down and he? Was TICKED. It took ALL of my strength to hold him down on the table. The nurse paused and said we might have to bring in another nurse to help hold him still. But she went for it, despite this 45 pound child screaming BLOODY MURDER and kicking and writhing.
It was done in a flash, and she left, leaving me to clean up the emotional wreckage, and the two anxious siblings. Asher could NOT calm down. He was so very upset. UGH. It was heart-breaking. He just kept saying “It HURT! It HURT!” and looking at me like I had betrayed him. He screamed so hard that he gave himself a bloody nose, which is not uncommon. But he was so upset with me, he wouldn’t let me help him with the bloody nose, so it got all over his face and shirt and hands. I decided it was time to get the HECK out of dodge, so I gave him a tissue that he half-heartedly held to his gushing nose, and instructed the older two to start walking.
As we were leaving the inner office into the waiting room, the nurse was with us, and called the next patient. “Ashley? Ashley?” Well, Ashley took one look at the screaming child with blood all over his face and shirt and she promptly hopped up and RAN. She BOLTED in the opposite direction with impressive speed. Her mom barely knew what happened, because she too, was staring at the horror scene exiting the office.
I felt a little bad, but I had my own problems, so I took my circus out to the car and let Ashley’s mom deal with her own traumatized kid. Sorry, Ashley’s mom.