I reluctantly took the boys to the pediatrician to get their flu shots. The risk of contracting the flu in our everyday routine barely outweighed the risk of getting sick from a bunch of snotty kids in a waiting room.
Our doctor's office is awesome. When I checked us in at reception, with no appointment but for their first come first served walk-in clinic, I was dismayed at the packed waiting room full of germs. But our butts barely grazed the chairs when the nurse called us in rescuing us from the diseased.
E. was not so impressed. He had a pile of germ covered doctor's office books in his hot little hands for me to read. And let's face it: he's no fool. He knew what was coming.
When the nurse called us in, me and M. stood up to go and E. screamed;
"M. first! M. first!"
But it was too late for M. The pretty young nurse had him by the hand and he followed her like a lamb. He loves the pretty ladies.
Anyway, in we went. And the boys were troopers. Barely a frown as they got their shots. Then off to pick out a Thomas sticker for M. and and Angry Birds sticker for E.
When I went to my doctor the next day, I cannot claim to be so brave. I can't even watch the needle go in and that *)()#$% hurt for 24 hours man, leaving a huge bruise. I asked M. and E. if their shots hurt and they gave me perplexed looks. I guess I'm the baby here.