"Shot in the arm, and you're to blame."

Last Thursday our weekly trip to the library was preceded by a trip to the dreaded health department. It's only dreaded because just like taking the dogs to the vet's office, after a few trips the kids realize we're only there for one thing. Shots. However, unlike the dogs they don't stiffen their legs and urinate outside the front door. Aubrey was quite overdue for her listed vaccinations and upon checking in I was informed that she needed five of them. Unlike, my dear new friend Jessica, who would never allow her kids to get that many in one visit, I just said okay. Better to get it over with all at one time, kind of like that last spoonful of cold lima beans on your dinner plate. This trip was a little peculiar because Squeeze kept begging to get a shot too. Okay, that's a little weird,I thought. So I appeased his request and asked the receptionist if I could get his that day too. Two birds with one stone, you know. However, I was told that we would have to wait until his birthday in order for him to receive the shots. When I returned to the chair that I was sitting in I told him that he wouldn't be able to get shots that day. He then proceeded to let out a whine at this apparently unfortunate news. Trying to calm his cries, I sat dumbfounded that someone would actually want to get shots. Then it dawned on me. Maybe he doesn't remember what shots actually feel like. So I asked him if he wanted to know how they felt. His big, blue watery eyes looked up at me and said 'yes.' So, what did I do? I lifted my hand and grabbed a small bit of of skin on his upper arm and pinched it between my fingers. Yup, that's right. I pinched it. His cries intensified for a moment and then I asked him if he wanted a shot today. The answer, a resounding 'no.'