My husband finally drew the short straw. After fifteen years of taking children for their well child checkups, enduring the screams from the sting of the vaccination, and wrapping them in jackets while they sit nearly nude on a cold metal frame in an air conditioned room it was time for my husband to experience the fun.
He had no anxiety as they drove and the little kids asked questions all the way to the doctor’s office. I felt bad for the kids, knowing that it had been some time since their last well child check, and that shots were unavoidable.
I was thrilled to not be the one taking the boys to the doctor, and prayed the whole hour that they were there. My husband ensured me that he would call as soon as the appointment was over, and I waited anxiously to hear about his awful experience, how sorry he was that I was the one always being subjected to the practice, and his begging me to take the boys next time because he is too wimpy to handle another well child checkup.
When he called, all was quiet. He mentioned that he had to exit the car in order to call me because the boys were still screaming from the shots. I felt terrible and asked if I could speak to them to try and calm them down. I also suggest that he take them to Dairy Queen for a sundae, or that he treat them to McDonald’s. He laughed, and then told me that he was joking. He told me that when they got their immunizations they laughed and said, “That didn’t hurt!” He also told me that the whole appointment was a piece of cake, big surprise.
I should have known. It is so typical that when my husband is in charge of doctor’s appointment, cavities getting filled at the dentist, haircuts, or spending the weekend alone with the children, things never go wrong, in fact, they go better than humanly possible.
I haven’t told my husband yet, but from now on, he is in charge of the well child checkups. He obviously very good at what he does. I am quietly resigning from my duty as the doctor’s office attendee. I would hate to take the joy away from him.