Today we were all inoculated with the flu vaccine. I just typed fly vaccine and thought about how wonderful it would be if there was a shot that repelled flies. The Little Buddy would be all over that because he's not a fan of flies. Although, really, who is? Also, inoculated is such a fun word that I think I may need to integrate it into my vocabulary with fervor.
Troy went first. I followed. The Rock Star, who could seriously go by The Shot Star just as appropriately because he is an incredible little trouper who isn't scared of needles at all, was third. Seriously. Troy is the biggest needlephobe I've ever met. I would question paternity but I'm 110% positively sure that my husband fathered my son. Although the doctor did insist for quite some time that I became pregnant on a specific day. A specific day that I was all the way across the country from my husband. For real. I insisted that, no, I actually didn't get pregnant while I was in New York City. Without my husband.
My point. Garrett is Troy's biological son but they couldn't be further apart on the needle to fear continuum.
We all sailed through our vaccinations with flying colors. Even Troy. All the while, Matthew was standing in the middle of the room quietly saying, "I want one." Every time one of us received our Band-Aid he pointed and asked politely. We kept assuring him that he'd get one.
I sat on the table and held him on my lap. The nurse cleaned his leg and stuck the needle in. And that is when all the pandemonium in all the world broke loose. Matthew is strong. I mean really, incredibly, sometimes frighteningly, strong. As soon as the needle went in he yanked his leg ten inches in the opposite direction before the nurse or I could do anything about it. Vaccine sprayed and blood trickled. The violent jerk of his leg had sent the needle grazing across his skin. And he sobbed.
The nurse was confident that we got enough vaccine in and that it would be better to let it be than to give him another dose and risk him getting too much. She covered part of his scrape with a Band-Aid and went to get another one for the rest of it. When she walked back in he freaked out and started flailing--terrified that she was going to administer another poke of death. We assured him that he was just getting another Band-Aid. When she put it on he quietly said, "Thank you."
And it broke my heart just a little.
In the car Garrett (the weird little freak) said, "Matthew wasn't that fun?"
Matthew, still looking pathetic and clutching his favorite stuffed animal, responded, "Yeah!"
Someone needs to teach him that he doesn't always have to agree with his brother.