What’s in a number

Princess starts Kindergarten in a few weeks, and one of several chores I’ve put off this summer caught up with me today.  Before she could be enrolled, she had to have a physical.  And this year, with that physical, came the gift of shots.

Because shots themselves aren’t enough – all three of them – there first had to come the finger prick.  I don’t know if it’s genetic or what, but from her reaction I could tell she felt the same way about that finger prick that I do.  “OMG what are you trying to do, suck my soul out of the tip of my index finger?  That f’in hurts!”  Except she’s five, so it just came out “OwwwwwwwwwOOOOOWwwwwwww You HURTED me!!”  And then more of the screaming.  With tears.

Don’t worry, the nurse is reassuring her, once we’re done here you won’t have to get stuck with any more needles for eight years.   Not until you’re in seventh grade!  That’s a long time.  It’s ok.  Shhhh.

And then we finally get all the needles done, and all the band aids applied, and all the kisses and hugs (except princess won’t hug the nurse because that girl?  She hurted her!) and the nurse looks at the little blood meter and says oh – that’s low.

And then the doctor comes in, and starts checking princesses eyes and gums and toe nails, and I ask – how low it is?  “Pretty low” she tells me.  (9.9, when 11 is as low as it’s supposed to be for “normal”, if that means anything).

Which means that, that promise of no needles for eight years?  Yeah, broken already.  We go back in four weeks to get her poked again.

My girl knows a promise when she hears one.  I hope for Nurse Julie’s sake that she’s not the one who has to poke Princess again next month, because this child is not going to let this one go down easy.

Now I’m off to cruise the internet and try to find Iron supplements in a Barbie Princess vitamin.