Over the last few days, there's been some PAIN! Kenz and Brody both had pediatrician visits for their shots. You can call them immunizations or vaccinations, but it doesn't matter what you call them--- they still feel like shots.
On Friday, Brody got the first tearful series in his leg and today Kenz got the needles in the arm. I was babysitting Brody at my house, so I didn't accompany my daughter to the doctor. Before the appointment I called Kenz to see if she wanted to skip school to spend the day with me. "Just like the old play wit me Nana days," I told her. Without thinking about it, she answered with a happy "great idea, Nana!" But two seconds later she was almost crying,"It's gonna hurt so bad, Nana."
I wish, I wish, I wish I could have said--- just skip the dumb shots, too!
When my daughter and Kenz arrived, they had bagels and band-aids. There were two markers, evidence of immunization on Kenz's left deltoid. One was a neat little round colored band-aid, the other the boring beige strip. When I asked my daughter the reason for this, she shook her head. Then, when Kenz was occupied--- watching little Brody kick his legs, she whispered that the visit was "terrible." The bigger bandage was the result of her not wanting to hold still for the nurse. "It's a good thing you weren't there, Mom," she said.
Later in the morning Brody had a crying jag, a loud one. Kenz had never heard her little cousin scream like that and neither had I. He wanted a bottle and he was tired, it was a double whammy. After he settled down and was looking like an angel in my arms, sleeping as sweet as sweet could be, more was revealed about the trauma Kenz had endured at the docs.
"Nana, you know how loud Brody was screaming?"
"Louder than ever, right Kenz?"
"Yeah, as loud as I was screaming when the nurse was giving me the shots. Mommy had to hold me down."
"It's ok , Kenz. It's scary when you don't know how bad it's going to hurt. That's ok that you were screaming."
I was so glad she was able to share with me. After Brody went home with his mom, we played school. Kenz was the teacher, which she could be in real life, because she is so darn good at it. We had an Art lesson on tracing random objects, then Reading. She read me a few of the Bob books from Set Two. Afterwards, she stood up, put the books in her desk and rang the bell we use between activities. She then announced (unexpectedly) that "all the kids have to line up to get ---shots." She was the one giving them out. She bustled around the playroom looking for a 'needle' and came up with a few different toys, but in the end decided to use a little pinch of her fingers.
When it was my turn (after a few invisible classmates) she spent some time reassuring me.
This is going to hurt, but only for a minute. You have to hold still. You can hold you mommy's hand if you want to. Hold your mommy's hand. Pinch Pinch! I let out a long scream. She was looking at me with large sad eyes. "I'll put a band-aid on it," she said. "And you can have a sticker."
"That will help only a little," I sobbed. "I hate shots! The good thing is Teacher, I don't have to get anymore until I am eight years old! I think I'll wait till I'm almost nine."
Oh to play away the pain! It's a granny's game.