Ruby turns six months and it’s time for her shots. If you think she looks worried at the start of our trip to the doctor’s, you should have seen my face.
In the waiting room, she doesn’t buy my smiley face. I think I oversold it.
Her suspicion rises when I take her clothes off and we wait for the nurse.
But mom, where is the bathtub?
To keep her occupied, we check out the SHOT LIST.
Ruby cannot read. Ignorance is a good thing.
I often say I cannot take a bad picture of Miss Ruby, except maybe on August 20, topless in an awkward pose in the doctor’s room, with her eyes half closed and her mouth in mid-coo.
You’re beautiful, Rubes!
I lose my under-16 pound bet to Jay. Ruby weighs in at 16 pounds 13 ounces. I suck as a human Detecto.
The doctor looks at the nurse’s measurement of Ruby’s head and goes, “That can’t be right.” She takes the tape and re-measures Ruby. Three times. Once, she gets me to take a look as well.
It’s official. Ruby has a big head. That’s an actual medical diagnosis.
“Does your husband have a big head?”
“Er, I never thought of that before.”
“Go home and ask him. I need you to come back in a month to check on her head.”
“WTF?” I say silently in my small head.
I hope this means we have a genius on our hands.
After the head talk, it’s on to her immunizations. First up, some oral vaccine.
Ruby gives me the same face when I feed her baby food. So vaccines taste like mashed green peas now?
Then it’s time to inject Very Sharp Objects into her thigh. A petrified mom holds on to a very calm Ruby.
Aye caramba!
Can you hold an infant and take a photo at the same time? Why, yes, yes you can.
Five seconds later and all is honky dory in Ruby-Land — a vast difference from the last time someone had shots. It’s as if the shots didn’t happen!
I dare not celebrate in fear of jinxing the moment.
Injections, Schminjections.
Ruby the Six-Month-Old is an old pro at this.
Get back to us at nine months.
0 Responses to “Anatomy Of A Shot”