Ouchies

The pediatrician was not nearly as aghast at Monkey's eating habits as I was afraid of - I suppose she sees 'em all, so she knows what's really terrible. She said that peanut-butter and the odd yogurt and plenty of milk were excellent sources of protein, and so long as he has his vitamins (superhero ones, of course) he should continue to be okay. And of course she told him that now he's four he might find that he likes all sorts of things he didn't like before and that he should try some fruits and vegetables again. His answer was a resounding "I don't like any fruit or vegetables."

But he's right where he should be on his curve, at 50% for weight and 40% for height (I swear, the rest of the kids in his class must come from Hagrid stock or something - there's really no reason for me to think he's smaller than average), so that was good. Then the nurse came back with four (four!) needles and he was absolutely stellar about it. I had promised him a light sabre when he got his injections, and he was so looking forward to getting it that, far from my fears of having to drag him out of the house and hold him down screaming, he announced "Yay! I love getting injections!", left the house excitedly, and was not even looking nervous when the pointy things appeared. The nurse had him sit on my knees facing me and told him to blow in my face on the count of three, for each jab. I blew with him, and the first two were a breeze (heh), the third was a bit ouchy, and the fourth - the MMR; I don't know why it's so much worse, but it is - was horrible. His face, already just about holding on after number three, crumpled up redly and he let out a wail of pain and sobbed into my chest.

But he recovered quickly and all but danced out to the car where the lovely green light sabre was waiting for him. I even let him swirl it around in the back seat without yelling (too much) all the way back to school. He was a superstar, and I'm proud of him.

The light sabre, of course, is currently enjoying its third or fourth period of confiscation on the top shelf. And I'm wondering if we should put Star Wars in our Netflix queue so he can have some clue what he's actually doing. I have no idea where he found out about them in the first place. Small boys just know these things, I suppose.