Not exactly what you expect to hear coming from your 14-year-old son’s mouth in the pediatrician’s office but then again, with Sean the unexpected is the only thing you can expect.
Sean had to get another shot today. Yep, more torture for the privilege of attending the 9th grade.
Poor kid. You know how he is about shots.
I struggled with how to tell him he was going to have to get another one. I knew about it roughly three weeks ago when the high school rejected his physical.
I was so angry. I couldn’t believe it when the school nurse said he needed a booster shot because… get this… a vaccination Sean received in 1999 was given – supposedly – a couple of days too early.
Are they serious??
I was fuming riding my bicycle home that day from the high school. So much for a relaxing ride on a gorgeous summer day…
So I’ve known for weeks and couldn’t imagine telling him about the extra injection. He had been so relieved after the last set was done.
And now there was one more.
Sometimes being a mom sucks.
I passed off the additional doctor’s appointment as yet another check up for a recurring pain he’s been having.
I wasn’t lying… I was sure to talk to the doctor about it.
But I felt awful for not being entirely truthful. Every time he brought up the appointment I felt as if I was deceiving my child.
And I was.
I came clean about a mile into the drive to the doctor’s office. It was in the car but we were at a red light. He still could have jumped out and made a run for it.
Surprisingly, he took it fairly well. I allowed some foul-mouthed remarks about the district’s stupid rules and regulations and dropped the subject as quickly as I could.
Do you talk about it or ignore it? Touchy situation….
I guess in the length of a red light, we did both.
We got to the doctor’s office and I was grateful for the levity that talking about last week’s explosive diarrhea incident in the woods and the irony of the doctor’s bathrooms being unusable provided.
Soon enough, the doctor was in.
Sean and I had practiced our “hold” (where I – for the lack of a better word – trap his arms under mine while he’s facing me)… adding in talk about smelly armpits and failed deodorant to the mix…before the doctor arrived.
We went over how he would count down from three and then scream…preferably like a girl. The doctor would give him the shot during the scream. It’s a long-standing joke in our house as Sean’s voice has been changing. When he screams it will often times “crack” and take on the high pitch of his sisters’ vocal endeavors.
So the scene was set for the big shot. Sean was standing in front of me. The cap was off of the syringe.
Everyone was ready.
That’s when “routine” and “practice” flew out the door.
As soon as the alcohol swab hit my son’s upper left arm he started semi-shouting “I like boobs. I like boobs. I like boobs.”
It was hilarious. I couldn’t believe the words coming from my son’s mouth.
With the swiftness of a super hero, the doctor shot him in the arm.
Sean paused. Not knowing what to think.
Then she reached for something… Sean, suspecting it was another needle, instantly began his mantra again.
“I like boobs. I like boobs. I like boobs.”
I couldn’t suppress my laugh as the thing she reached for turned out to be a band-aid but yet the boob talk continued.
“I like boobs. I like boobs. I like boobs,” Sean kept saying as the band-aid was placed on his arm.
“Oh, it’s over?”
“Yes. That was a band-aid.”
“It didn’t even hurt.”
I quieted the urge to say, “Yea, putting on a band-aid rarely does.”
Instead I went with something mom-like and told my son how proud I was of him.
Three weeks of torment with visions of him screaming and crying in the doctor’s office swirling in my head. Three weeks of wondering how I was going to hide the tears that would inevitably well up as he anticipated the injection.
So much for all of that…
Who knew that the word “boob” would be all that it took?
Although he did admit that he’s never seen one… but he’s sure he likes them!
My kid never ceases to amaze me….
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