Because what the internet needs is more wittering about rubbish parenting

Wednesday, 21 July 2010


All mammies, even rubbish ones like me, dread immunisation time. No-one likes to see their poor baby have needles stuck in them, no-one like seeing that confused "what are you doing to me, this HURTS!" face, no-one likes the traumatised screaming, or the prospect of a sleepless night spent shoving calpol into a boiling hot baby. The Baby has never actually reacted too badly to her jabs, but the last ones were months ago, and who knew what sort of mood they'd put her in now. So, having already missed the appointment 3 weeks in a row, it was with a slight sense of trepidation that I hauled her into the surgery today. But we all know that The Baby loves to confound my expectations. As the super-speedy, stealth ninja nurse jabbed her in the leg with lightning speed, The Baby let out a yelp of surprise and started doing the face. We gave her a cuddle and told her what a brave little soldier she was. And then she stopped crying. Just like that. As we reached the car park, she broke into a huge smile. When we got home, she played on the floor happily, shrieking with joy at everything she encountered. She went to bed with no fuss. WHAT THE HELL WAS IN THAT SYRINGE???!!!!! And can I get some more please?

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