Ouch!

My first-born is a hero. She probably displayed more strength and courage today than I have in the past decade. But how, noble web writer?
This little kid sucked it up and let the doctor give her four (count ‘em – FOUR) booster shots today.
And when I say ‘little kid’ I ain’t kidding. This peanut weighed in before inoculation central at a hefty 34 pounds, and 42 inches tall. That’s 15.5 kilos to you metric-minded chaps. With that weight in mind, I don’t have to be too descript of what her arms must look like. Yeah – my golf clubs are thicker. Each of those pencils with hands took two for the home team.
I don’t know how she stayed put long enough for the doc to administer the last three. I mean, after you get jabbed with a stick of metal relatively as long as your spine you work like a junkyard dog to get away from the next one coming your way.
Her courage did not go without reward. Soldiers receive medals and commendations, kids get cool stuff like in this case – Happy Meals. After that torture, I would set her up all week with nuggets and fries, and I wouldn’t worry about her getting sick – she’s got enough anti-disease juice coursing through her tiny veins to fend off the most wicked viral permutation. She doesn’t even know it, but she stands like a tiny Amazon, brazenly challenging the invading bacteria to mortal battle. Ok, maybe her arms just hurt enough to make climbing the ladder to the top bunk difficult. Bottom line – she’s tough, loves hockey because Daddy does, and isn’t afraid to root for the visiting team. As a matter of fact – she always does.
Next angle, same topic – I wonder how the Wife^TM handled it? I have this feeling that there will be a few more gray hairs on her head by the time I get home today… You hear that? That hum is the stress on those apron strings…