I Want an Oompa Loompa Now! Wait, I Mean a Flu Shot!

So.

We’ve been struggling to get the family vaccinated with the seasonal flu shot due to unavailability at our doctors’ offices, so Abbie, Evie, and I headed on over to a flu shot clinic that Walmart was having yesterday.  No waiting in line, just walked right up, stuck out my arm, filled out some paperwork, and I was good to go.  I then asked the RN if she knew if any of the clinics in the area offered pediatric flu shots, thinking she’d probably say that none were.  (Our pediatrician’s office can’t get Abbie in until mid-November, and they simply don’t have any shots for Sadie’s age group and don’t know when they’ll be getting any in, if at all, thank-you-very-much.)  However, the RN told me that although Abbie was too young, they offered shots at the Walmart clinic for kids as young as four—and they were the thimerosal-free ones, to boot.  Hurrah.

So, we started to leave, and I walked away telling the RN that we’d be back with my four-year-old later that afternoon once she was done with preschool.

As we were leaving, Miss Abbie must have suddenly realized that only I was going to get the shot right then and that we were coming back later in the day to get her sister’s shot, and it became apparent to her that she must be missing out on something.  Something really grand and big and FUNTASTIC.

“Mommy, I get a flu shot?”

“No, Abs, just Mommy right now and Sissy later.  You’ll get yours at the doctor’s office in a few weeks, so you don’t have to do it today.”  Of course, at this point I’m still thinking that she’s scared to get a flu shot and is worried about getting poked in the arm today.

“But, but, but…I WANT A FLU SHOT!”  And the lip-pouts were flying all over that store.  She managed to hold it together pretty well until we got into the car, occasionally issuing forth a “But I want a FLU SHOT!” while walking beside Evie’s stroller, but once we were in the minivan-o-madness, she let loose with a tantrum the likes of which we haven’t seen from her in a long time.  (She’s the easy-going one, remember?)

“I WANT A FLU SHOT!  I WANT A FLU SHOT!  I WANT A FLU SHOT!”  And this little piggy went “wee-wee-wee-wee” all the way home.  No joking.

We got home, got out of the car and started to get ready for naps, and we had a redux episode right there on the floor of the den.  Kicking, screaming, actual banging of the fists on the actual carpet like a bad acting audition for that completely ridiculous show Toddlers and Tiaras.  (In defense of the show, I’ve never really seen an episode, only television advertisements for it, but, hey, can those people get a life, please?)

“I WANT A FLU SHOT!  I WANT A FLU SHOT!  I WANT A FLU SHOT!”  OK, Veruca Salt, you’ll get your flu shot, and then I’m flushing you down the Golden Goose ramp to Oompa Loompaland.

It was just too good to be true.  I called her dad at work, and I tried to get her to tell him what was wrong, but she was so verklempt that she could barely breathe.  No exaggeration here.  When she wouldn’t tell him and continued to cry so hard that snot was rolling down her face and into her mouth and she was trying to lick it—yes, we got a Kleenex right away at that point—I finally told her father what she was so upset about.  He started cackling hysterically.  Yes, it was funny, but, unfortunately, it only made her cry harder that I had been the one to tell him instead of her.

I finally got her to take her nap, but I was praying that when she woke up and we picked up her sister, she wouldn’t blab out in the car on the way to Walmart, “Hey, Sister, we’re going to Walmart so you can get your flu shot.  And I’m super jealous.”  Wouldn’t that just be lovely.

We managed to make it to Walmart sans secret-revealing, and the line was again relatively short.  Not many people around at all.  I had picked up the paperwork when I was there earlier to expedite the process, knowing that Sadie would NOT be as thrilled or as insanely excited to get a flu shot as Abbie.

Let’s just say this to move this post along a little faster:  It took longer than I thought for Sadie to realize that we were there to get HER flu shot, but once she did, all hell broke loose and many things happened in rapid succession.

1)  She looked at the boy who was sitting in the chair in front of us, looked back at me, looked at the kid again, and then started to crinkle up her face into the most hideous jack-o-lantern expression you’ve ever seen.

2)  She immediately fell on the floor and started bicycling her new bright orange Crocs to ward off her crimson-faced mother.  She pummeled those Crocs into my stomach and thrashed her arms and head back and forth on the nasty, germ-infested floor of Walmart.

3)  She began shrieking.  Not screaming, but shrieking.  And spit was coming out of her mouth; I think a little chunk of it actually flew out onto the table, but there was no time for housekeeping…are you kidding me?

4)  The lovely little elderly couple (is that PC?) sitting on the bench waiting patiently and quietly for some prescriptions started trying to shush her and calm her down with comments like, “Dearie, once the needle is in, you won’t feel a thing.”

5)  Abbie started to whine and whimper her mantra again, “But I want a flu shot too, Mommy.”  To which I replied, “Abbie, just rock the baby’s stroller, will ya?  Mommy’s a little tied up at the mo’.”

6)  The RN tried to give me instructions on how to hold Sadie so she could get the needle in her arm.  Are you kidding me?  It’s just like wrestling a bull to the ground, lady….you just dig in, grab whatever appendages you can find, and take hold until you can’t hold on any longer.  And that’s exactly what I did.

And then the needle found skin.

And then Sadie realized Hey, that’s not so bad after all.  I’d better pull back a bit and take a gander at what’s sticking out of my bicep.  Huh?  That’s nothing at all, not any little thing at all.

And then there was peace again in the brightly-lit world of Walmart.

And then…then I looked up and realized that we had brought the store running to the pharmacy.  There were at least 20 more people surrounding us now; some were store personnel, others were just looky-loos come-a shuffling over to see what all the hub-bub was about.

Let me tell you:  Our family?  We give good hub-bub, Bub.  And don’t you ever forget that.

In this video, here’s Sadie giving her post-immunization reflection speech about the experience.

Hear that chatter and melody in the background?  That’s Abbie, singing because she heard that Target is giving free catheterizations to the first 100 shoppers next Tuesday.  Whaddya say, Veruca?  Should we shimmy on over there and get you all fixed up?

Popularity: 3% [?]

Leave a Reply