Yesterday I had to take Cubby to the hospital to have his blood drawn for a routine lead test*. I was not looking forward to this, as I am not so pleased to have someone shove a needle into my vein myself, and I could think of no good way to explain to Cubby why this had to be done to him.
After a quick analysis of Cubby's arm ("Great veins!"), the tech called in another lady to hold him while he sat on my lap. The fact that they expected to need two adults to control one child made me even less comfortable with it. The needle went in and Cubby gasped and then announced, "Hurt!" At which point I started talking about how he would get to have a bandage like the goat that hits his hoof with a hammer (it's in a ridiculous children's book--don't ask). And he didn't cry. At all. Not one tear, not a whimper, nothing after that first bewildered, "Hurt!"
The tech apparently had the wrong-colored tube for the lead test blood, or something, and had to switch out the tubes and thereby draw twice as much blood as necessary. Irritating. But even with the extended session with a big-ass needle stuck in his vein, he didn't protest at all. When the tech handed him some Winnie the Pooh stickers after the bloody bit was over, he smiled at her. When the other tech gave him a stuffed duck for being so brave, he said thank you (after a prompt from me, I must admit). After some more remarks on his pretty lips and adorable face and incredible stoicism, we left the newest members of Cubby's fan club and came home.
This happens everywhere, with everyone he meets. He is such a remarkably, unbelievably good child. I mean, sure, we have unhappy moments and tantrums and inconsolable spates of tears, but they are few, short in duration, and confined to home.
I don't know what I did to deserve this child, but I am so, so grateful to have him. And already bracing myself for the fact that I will pay for this good fortune with my next child, who will undoubtedly be hell on wheels. Oh well. At least Cubby broke me into motherhood gently.
* As a meaningless but nonetheless entertaining aside, talking of lead always reminds me of this scene in the movie Tommy Boy. Please excuse the terrible video of some dude's television, but it's the only one I could find.
It makes sense to me. He's such a little man, and he acted just like he thought a man would. Maybe he can help train the next one.
ReplyDeleteRecall the thoughts you thought as you awaited Cubby's arrival--and try to duplicate them. Perhaps those thoughts will bring another child with a wonderful disposition!
ReplyDeleteNot everyone has a hell child after a perfect first one, but I did. I sure did. And it was a shock to our system in more ways than one. But our hell child is 16 now and he makes us laugh every day. Yin and yang, man.
ReplyDeleteBless you for referencing Tommy Boy.
ReplyDeleteI'm with Jive Turkey - bless you. Tommy Boy is a reference for many of life's situations.
ReplyDeleteI've always said that if my second child had been first there would not have been a second. That being said they've both been a challenge in their own special way. I've been meaning to say congrats. Can't wait to find out if you are having a girl or boy.
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