Post traumatic stress....from the pediatric nurse

Alex had a doctor's appointment today and we made it into a little family outing. No big deal, just in for a couple of shots and some measurements to make sure the little monkey is growing okay. We arrived early and Alex and Jack played with the few toys that were in the office. We were called in right away and all was going well until the nurse walked in the room. I am not quite sure what Alex thought of her or what he thought she might do to him, nut he started screaming bloody murder and would not stop. All she did was weigh him and measure his length and head. She wasn't mean and did not touch him otherwise. Afterwards the Doctor came in and tried talking to us, but we could barely hear what he had to say because of all the crying going on. Mean while, Jack is covering his ears saying "It's too loud".

The shots are next and Alex continues to scream. Food does not stop him.Rocking does not stop him. Holding him does nothing. He climbs down then he wants back up. He wiggles out of my arms and then screams because I'm not holding him any more. The Doctor does his best to let us know what is going on and what we need to do. All I get is that we need to bring the two of them back early October for the flu shot. We leave and put Jack and Alex in their car seats. Alex stops crying immediately.

We make a stop at Costco to stock up on diapers because Andy heard that the price is going way up this weekend due to the high price of oil. I get 4 mega boxes that contain 223 diapers each. Alex only put on half a pound so I figure I am safe to buy so many size 3's. Two more random stops and Alex is asleep before we get home.

Did he remember what happened the last time we were at the pediatrician? Did he remember that it was the same nurse this time that stuck him four times last visit with those awful needles? I don't know, but he would not calm down from the time he saw her until the time he was safely strapped into his car seat.He reminds me of Stewie from the Family Guy. He knows more then he lets on. He understands me when I tell him something but doesn't always do what I say.

Right now he is angry because the stools he's trying to stack won't go together the right way to let him reach the top of the counter. Smart. He knows that they stack together. Strong. He can lift them even though they weigh half of what he does. If he could talk, I'm almost positive he'd be swearing. He's going to figure it out. Little baby genius.