Weasel wrestling and the countdown.

     Ever wrestled a rabid weasel?  Nope?  I have.  It’s called pinning down a 3 year old for a flu shot after you unintentionally lied to him about NOT getting a shot… and going to the park.  I know… I am devil Mommy.  Sass was all violent squirming and teeth and, instead of just shrieking wordlessly when they were trying to give him the shot, he screams “No!  Don’t take my pants off!  You’re hurting me!”.  I can't imagine what all the other parents in the office thought while sitting quietly with their sweet little children, waiting patiently for their turn to see the doctor.  Or maybe I can...   It took 2 nurses and myself to get him still enough to inoculate and it took one nurse and myself to hold Sprinkles still.  My kids be mighty.  Mighty loud.  I don't blame them though… poor Sprinks got 4 shots (No Oregon Trail sickies!  Yay!) and that is just sadness.  I wish they could understand that it will all be over in a minute and then you get a sucker.  Suckers make everything better.  And Snoopy Halloween stickers. (If they can have all these little treats ready for the wigglers, why not a cold beer for Mommy?)  I absolutly hate hearing them shriek in pain… but I would hate it more if they contracted measles, mumps, rubella, diphtheria, meningitis, hepatitis, pertussis, or 40% of the flu viruses floating around at the moment.  That ugly list right there... THAT is why we have chosen to vaccinate.  Momentary pain for lifetime protection.  But I digress to my soap box….  J

     It doesn't help that Sprinkles is terrified of strangers.  She was fine while stomping around the examination room in nothing but her diaper, but when the nurse scooped her up to go weigh her, well, let the countdown begin.  The “Countdown” is a good indicator of scream decibel level.  You'll see her start to turn red, eyes  squinched shut, and her mouth will begin to slowly open wider and wider in a silent scream as she inhales to Let.  You .  Have it.  If you can count to ten while she is readying her lungs, you had better get ear plugs.  We were able to walk out of the room and over to the scale two doors down with her doing a silent Edvard Munch before she let loose.  She was roughly the color of an overripe tomato and ear protection was required.  I think they heard her in Thailand.  And that was just the weigh-in.  You can imagine how she handled having her ears, nose, and throat inspected (the doc didn't need to use a tongue depressor.  At this point, her mouth was so wide you could see her colon).

     Needless to say, I was done in after all that.  Wrestling rabid, angry, (unintentionally) betrayed weasels will really take it out of a girl.  It will also put you in the Preschooler dog house.  Mommy’s name was mud for the rest of the evening, which he spent Velcro-ed to Daddy.  I don't blame him, really.  Luckily, Sprinks is still in that “Wait… what happened 10 minutes ago?” phase so she didn’t hold it against me.  I’m kind of jealous….