Spirograph Brave

My little son does not like shots. He hates them.

When he learned he would have to endure two for his kindergarten physical, he said to me, "I think I can summon up some bravery."

I hugged him and assured him I would hold his hand and it would be okay. I told him about how at his age, I didn't like shots either and that my mother got me to stop going on about having to have a vaccination by making me chose an item that I could earn if I was brave enough.

"What was it?"
"A Spirograph."
And I explained what a spirograph was and how much I had enjoyed it, and how his sister had one up in her room.
"Well I don't want a spirograph for a shot."

So we went on to negotiate a suitable prize.

The day of the physical arrived. Having scheduled a double up, my daughter in first grade attended as well. Her doctor's appointment went first. She got her shot and said "Ow." When it came time for the shot, my son cried hard.

He cried as we left the office. He cried as we went down the elevator. He cried as we walked through the parking lot. Getting into the car, he was still going on about the pain.

My daughter, ever solicitous, put her arm around him and said, "You were so brave." He was at this point, howling from it, saying over and over again, "I hate shots. I don't like them. It still hurts."

But when she said that, he looked at her with moderate annoyance, "I wasn't brave. That wasn't bravery."

He may not take a hit well, but he's ruthlessly honest about his state of being. I think I'm going to buy him a spirograph.