Stick It!

I’m not a fan of needles. Ever since I was a kid, I’d scream every time my parents even drove NEAR my pediatrician’s office. It didn’t help that my doctor had the bedside manner of a malevolent robot, and the nurses administering my shots were terrifying, white-clad monsters encased like sausages in support hose. (Plus, no post-shot lollipops.) My parents would try to console me as best they could, and actually managed to convince me that shots administered in my buttocks wouldn’t hurt if I didn’t struggle, because my booty was nothing more than nerve-free padding.

Now, when I see Owen crying upon being stuck by a big, fat needle, I can’t help but wince. I know that he’s a braver kid than I was, and that the staff at his doctor’s office are terrific and super-kid-friendly. Still, when I see Owen getting vaccinated, I flash back to myself scrambling away from a nurse trying to inject me in my arm, shrieking: “I WANT IT IN MY BUTT!!! I WANT IT IN MY BUTT!!!”

Owen getting stuck.