A good time to teach a lesson?

Because my last lot of blood tests were not done satisfactorily, I had to have them done again. Only problem was, I was rarely child free at an appropriate time to get them done.

So relented and took Godzilla with me.

First, I had to be weighed, which I think is highly inappropriate and unacceptable for a pregnant woman, 2 months post Christmas. What is the point, really?

Urgh.

I answered Godzilla’s quesitons about blood taking … yes, they have to take it out so they can have a look at it, and no, they won’t be putting any of it back… then sat in the special chair while I attempted to entertain Godzilla by discussing the numerous, cute pictures on the walls. My arm was prepped and the needle ready to be inserted, at exactly the time Godzilla got bored and wanted a cuddle.

Then had a good look at my arm and what was going on.

Hmmmm.

So I ask “Do you want to watch?” not being very serious at all.

Yes, he nods.

A flash of good mother inspiration hits me and I think “I can teach him something here. I can show that having needles and blood taken is not a bad thing, not fun, but, you know, acceptable and easy and all the rest of it. I’m going to Set An Example and demostrate something worthwhile to my 4 year old.”

“OK, fine, you can watch,” as I consciously force myself to relax.

I watch his face as the needle goes in, then take a peak at my arm myself. To see blood, leaking out of the needle and down my arm. It had clearly erupted at some point, as there were splatter marks around the pooling at my elbow.

Great!

“Ooh, sorry about that” says the “nurse” as she slides the needle back in, and turns to get something to mop up the spillage. As she’s performing the clean up, she inadvertantly pulls the needle out slightly, causing a second gush of blood.

“Oooh, that’s lovely,” says Godzilla. Somehow, however, I suspect he was just parroting one of my more sarcastic and overused phrases.

Eventually, we are allowed to escape the mutilator, several cotton balls taped to my inner elbow, and we walk to the bookshop.

“Was that your blood, Mummy?”

“Yes”

“It was all red.”

“Yes, it was.”

“There was lots coming out and out.”

“Mmm. Uh huh.”

“That wasn’t lovely, Mummy. It wasn’t lovely at all.”

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