Herbie: Every Doctor's Dream Patient
We went to the pediatrician this week for Herbie's checkup and last round of boosters in preparation for kindergarten roundup in a couple of weeks.
He loved being weighed, measured, blood pressure and pulse taken, eyes tested, etc.
But when it came to shots he was inconsolable. The nurse and I cajoled, offered bribes, gave tough choices, and finally, the two of us just had to pin him to the table for a few seconds while he struggled and yelled at the top of his lungs.
We came out of there with more loot then I've ever seen at a doctor's office: suckers, books, stickers, a token for a prize for each of the kids ... and Herbie was so proud and pleased, as if he'd taken those shots like a man.
For days he's been acting like those three punctures are old war wounds. He's still got the band-aids on, and sometimes he still says he can't do things he's asked to because, "my shots are sore."
We're going to the dentist next week. I'm expecting less drama.