Not a single tear, scream, or cry today during Emma's weekly injection.
The hubby was not home, so I had my mom come over to help out. Em sat in Grammie's lap, watched me get everything ready, then was completely brave during the injection. I counted to three, poked her, then Grammie and I counted to ten together while I gave the methotrexate. (The shot is completely over by the time I get to seven, but I apply pressure with my finger for the last few seconds.) That was it.
My daughter is my hero.
I understand when moms of little babies are heartbroken each time they take their child in for a vaccination. Most people can empathize with those moms, because no one likes to see a kid cry. Can you comprehend what it's like to give your own crying baby an injection every seven days? It's a much easier process when she's not screaming at me, so I am grateful that my girl is becoming so strong and brave. At the same time, I hate the fact that my not-even-two year old is getting accustomed to shots. JA seems to be full of these two-sided victories.
In related news, during Emma's failed attempt at a nap today, she started crying out, "My 'tuck, bed!" She said it over and over with a bit of panic in her voice, so I went to investigate. If you can't speak Emma-talk, that's her way of saying, "I'm stuck in my bed!" The poor thing put her foot through the slats in her crib and turned her ankle just enough so that she couldn't pull her foot back through. I did my best not to let her see me laughing when I rescued her.
She may be brave, but she's still a silly little kid. Thank goodness.