It was just about lunch time on a typically untypical Tuesday. As any mom can tell you, lunch time can bring about the most relentless of scuffles . . . the Hypoglycemic Quarrel. You know, the fighting that accompanies a growling belly and fuzzy head. Ah, but not this Tuesday. This Tuesday would bring peace. This Tuesday would bring a moment of unity and love. A moment that would make me tear up and immediately call Todd. And it all happened right there in the lobby of Dr. Pat's office.
If you have toddlers or school aged children you know that the vaccination thing is completely out-of-hand. Jenny McCarthy is on Oprah and Larry King telling us that her otherwise perfect child turned into an unresponsive kid immediately following his two-year-old shots. We have doctors telling us they will not accept us as patients if we refuse to get all the vaccinations. We have schools that send us notices ON THE CHILD'S BIRTHDAY asking for proof of the next round of shots. I don't have an opinion on the whole vaccination controversy. As a matter of fact, I find it easy to empathize with the docs, the schools and Jenny McCarthy. Empathy does not help when it is you that has to hold your kid's soft, chubby arms while the previously kind nurse turns into a needle wielding vampire. When it is all over you feel defeated and drained and are left to wonder, "is this the round of shots that is going to take my kid away?" I mean the fighting drives me crazy but I don't want them going anywhere.
And so now the powers-at-be added something close to a bazillion new shots that the kids must get before starting pre-school. On this otherwise sunny, pleasant Tuesday (aside from the constant shouting) little Eric is the victim of this nasty new rule. Kyle made up a scenario out loud on the way to the doctors office.
"I bet we walk in there and say, 'so, Dr Pat, does Eric need shots today?' "
"And Dr Pat will say (cue deep voice now), 'No Kyle, Eric does not need shots today' "
"And then we will say 'thanks Dr Pat', get our stickers and go home."
Let me interuppt here to tell you that the last trip to Dr. Pat was to remove a foreign object that was imbedded in Kyle's sole. Ky told Dr. Pat he was fairly sure he had stepped on a venus flytrap. Now that I can appreciate. Fighting over flouride drops, I can not.
Back to the story. Now isn't Ky's version pleasant? It included polite conversation and a nice, tidy little conlusion. Less pleasant was the reality and the three shots that Eric took like a 2.5 year old man.
Ah, but we still have the moment of peace that is about to arrive. Our wonderful friend Maria took care of Ky
in the lobby while Eric and I endured the angry syringes. Eric and I limped out exhausted and teary. Kyle, also teary from recognizing his adversary's screams, immediately came running to Eric. He threw his arms around Eric and . . . get ready for this . . . cradled his brother's head in his palms, planted a kiss on Eric's cheek and exclaimed, "I am so proud of you Eric for being so, so Brave!".
WHAT?????
Certainly you aren't showing any kind of compassion to the brother you just about took out racing through the doctor's office door. Are you kidding me? You have empathy for the kid whose toothbrush you ripped out of his hot little hands less than an hour ago? Could these two actually . . . gulp . . . sigh . . . care about each other? A mom can dream, and a mom's dreams can come true.
And then Kyle's anxious stuttering begins. "MaMaMaMa we we better take we we better take Eric for ice cream for for for being such a brave boy!." Huh. So maybe something is in it for him after all. Or maybe, just maybe they like eachother after all.
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