Today, a couple years later, this child is nearly 4. And, once again, we are in this situation. I am in this situation. This time, it's about vaccines.
I want to give myself some grace; the last few vaccine sessions went smoothly. Our little one wasn't happy about the shot, but he went along with it. I sensed he understood it was mandatory for him to go to "his school," the school he loves immensely, where he knows his friends are, where he loves the songs and games and toys and snacks.
This time, was different. Perhaps it was nap time, perhaps it is his age, perhaps it is that we are going through a huge time of transition: dadda is gone to work in Alaska and we have no home presently.
Whatever the reason, my child ends up yelling at me that he does not want the shot and he backs away terrified. Honestly, I want to post a pic of what his face and body look like at this moment -- oh, lorde, how awful -- and a pic of mine -- lorde have mercy, but I just can't. Up until this moment, that face and those words never existed in our family's world.
I imagine, though, it's a meme like this:
BUT NOT FUNNY AT ALL.
So, 30 minutes into this terribly traumatic doctor's visits, and I am finally holding my child in my lap while the nurse holds his legs, and another nurse pops in and says, "What if we reschedule?"
And, I say, "yes."
Our summertime intentions include: ease and joy and rest and...writing. So let me begin with writing you all a little note about what’s been happening in our lives. These are the late spring/ summer days of Little Robinbird and Abuelo Oliverdog with Dada and Mama, in the style that Mama shares at bedtime with “Bebe”: Once upon a time, in the beach loft on the Peninsula in Long Beach, Little Robinbird and Abuelo Oliverdog woke up and usually found that the sky was blue, the sun was out, and the ocean was calling. Robinbird would stretch and say, “Good morning, Mama and Dada” and “Hi, Oliver” or just tell us a story about how a snake bit him but then a bird carried the snake away; Mama, inspired by one of Robinbird’s books, might say to Robinbird “Your eyes are the ocean, your skin the golden Earth, your smile the sun, your laughter the playful wind.” Then, the little family would climb downstairs for coffee. Oliverdog would follow with a slow but steady hop down as well, and each would say ‘mornnin’ to the family whose photographs decorated the stairwell wall. (Abuela Grammie passed this year, and she has an honored place there). Robinbird would help Mama make breakfast and water the ‘babies’: the little peas and cilantro and malunggay growing on the porch. Sometimes, if Mama was very lucky, while Robinbird pretend played, Mama took a moment to journal at her “sit spot.” Soon, Oliverdog would ask (by scratching at the door) for a walk, and so began outdoor time walking or bicycling around the boardwalk. Art or music indoor time followed, and after lunch would be naptime. On the walls of their room, you’d find Mama’s artwork, Dada’s octopus ink print from our Alaska travels last summer, and a painting of the ocean that Mama and Robinbird created this year. Later afternoon brought beachtime with friends or an adventure to the museum or aquarium or Disneyland. Altogether, it was a pretty wonderful summer for “Team Sea Jaguar,” but for Dada being in Alaska. Mama was so grateful for her Little Robinbird and Abuelo Oliver. Fin.
