Poor little Julia had to go to the doctor today.
As soon as we get called out of the waiting room, the memory of the H1N1 shot comes back to her and she starts crying. "No more boo boo," she says, holding her leg.
"No, no," I assure her, "no boo boo. They are just going to look at your thumb."
Doctor comes in. "No boo boo," she tells Julia, "just need to look at that thumb."
She's not sure about it, so consults with another doctor. Talk of scapels and 18 gauge needles ensue.
They try once. Miss the infected part, just blood, can't culture that. Julia is not happy. Slice again. Julia crying and crying, screaming. Not happy.
As we get into the car, she's whimpering still.
Figure McDonalds will be a quick and easy lunch - just around the corner. Put her in the chair, not a high chair, just a regular chair, with her food.
I'm right here, I figure.
Not even halfway through the french fries, BOOM. Face plant onto the hard floor.
Crying and crying.
Get in the car. Get home. Sit down. She comes up to me to give me a kiss, but falters and smashes her face into my knee.
Looks at me and laughs, as to say "what else can possibly go wrong today, mama?"