Just a poke

Ok, so Cregan had to go to the doctor yesterday to fill out a form for preschool. He had to have a vision test and also an iron test. Before we'd even gotten out of the car in the parking lot, he asks me, "Mom, am I getting a shot?" Thinking that no, a shot is different than poking your finger to test our iron, I tell him no. We go to the office, and he informs everyone in the lobby of the doctor's office, that he'll not be getting a shot. We get called back, he gets weighed, and he informs the nurse that he will indeed not be getting a shot today so no funny business...

At this point the thought creeps into my mind, oh no, he's going to freck out about this poke... I think to myself, I must prepare him, BAD IDEA... I tell him, you know you are going to get a poke today. "A poke?" he says. "Yes, a poke, NOT a shot."

About this time, they call him for the vision test, he goes back relucanetly saying he doesn't want a shot, no giving him shots... he comes back, as does the nurse with the (not a technical term) poking device. Cregan is screaming and kicking and screaming somemore, I hold him down, the nurse gets his blood, it's all very tramatic.

After the process is done, the bandaid is on, and the nurse is checking he's levels. He tells me, in a loud enough voice that the nurses were laughing and talking about it outside, that that was not a poke, that WAS A SHOT.

Needless to say, a popsicle, sticker and pretzel finally calmed him down. But he still attest to having a shot at the doctors yesterday...