The Poke

I'm way behind in posting about this (it probably happened about a month ago), but time got away from me so here I am now, finally getting around to blogging this story.

It was a Saturday morning, and we were trying to kill time before the pumpkin patch opened, so Tom suggested we go to Kroger's Minute Clinic so that he could get his flu shot.

As he filled out the paperwork at the desk, the nurse asked if Libby and I would also be getting flu shots. I had already had mine, but I had totally forgotten about Libby's and honestly, had kind of thought I would just figure it out come December at her three year well check. I was caught off guard, but Tom said we should go ahead and do it, so I agreed.

Naturally, my first concern was that I hadn't mentally prepared Libby at all. Normally, before doctor visit, we talk about what the doctor will do and what might happen while we're there. Sometimes we go all out and get out Libby's doctor kit or a book about going to the doctor so we can be really prepared.

On this particular Saturday, I was blindsiding my kid with not only a doctor visit, but a shot! I felt pretty guilty and immediately started talking to Libby about how Daddy was going to get a shot so that he wouldn't get sick and then it would be her turn and it might hurt a little bit, but it would be just a little poke and a little pinch, and then it would be over.

As I'm rambling on and on like a crazy person, the nurse gently interrupted me and mentioned that they also had the Flu Mist available and we could opt for that so that Libby wouldn't have to get the shot.

Most parents would jump at the opportunity to do the Mist over the shot, and I kind of did, but was hesitant because I wasn't sure Libby would go for it. I'm pretty sure that little green bulb syringe thing you use on infants scarred her for life because every time she sees that thing, she freaks, and when I mentioned that she could get a little squirt in the nose instead of a shot, she wouldn't hear of it.

"I want the poke!" she told us.

"Um, okay, sure. But you know, that one might hurt. The nose one won't hurt at all." I reminded her.

"I want the poke!" she repeated.

"Are you sure? Because--"

"I WANT THE POKE!"

At that point, I gave up arguing, convinced that once she saw Tom get the shot, she would change her mind.

I was wrong. After Tom finished, the doctor asked Libby again what she wanted and Libby practically demanded "the poke." Without missing a beat, she climbed up on the exam table, let the doctor roll up her sleeve and watched as the doctor swabbed the area.

I winced in the corner of the room, waiting for the inevitable scream once the pain hit. I was sure she would be so mad. I waited to jump up and console her. And I waited. And waited.

And then it was over. I opened my eyes and looked at Libby, calm as could be, climbing down from the exam table.

"How was it?" I asked, sure I would be vindicated in her response.

"Good," she replied, matter-of-factly, "I need a sucker now."
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And that's the story of how Libby got "the poke" and proved me wrong. Another hard learned lesson in this crazy journey called parenting.