Band aids are not people!

Well we spent yesterday morning at Kaiser, getting typhoid shots for our long-planned, upon-us-far-too-quickly-now, trip to Thailand. No one of course likes shots, but Arran, at this point, gets himself completely worked up and is out of control, so I had to bring daddy in as reinforcement and support for the whole ordeal.

The plan had been for Arran to go first, to get it over and done with before the girls, but he was screaming and crying and trying to get away and the girls had finished with their shots, without even whimpering and daddy was still trying to deal with Arran. Poor little guy was petrified, bless him. He finally pulled himself together, after having his shot, with the incentive of a reward (Mo from Wall-E) which James had promised him he would get.

That afternoon, both Arran and Bryttain woke up from their naps, crying because of sore legs (and I must admit that I am still very sore today). They needed to have baths before we went to visit the cousins, but Arran was adamant that it would hurt too much and was finally talked into having a shower instead, as maybe that would be a little less painful (?)!

I was OUT OF IT after my shots and James, very graciously, washed all three kids. As I was drying Arran afterwards and checking that it had all gone OK, he told me that he was fine, because daddy had not washed his band aid, because band aids are not people! He was serious too, he wasn't trying to be funny, but it made my day.