With one kid, the doctor's office is all fun and games. Let's read a book, sit on my lap, the doctor's going to listen to your heart now, I'll hold down your arms straight-jacket-style while the nurse impales you with a couple of needles and we'll go home with a sticker and a lollipop. With twins, you see, it's not so easy.
2.5 year check-ups for Bean and Roo yesterday. Allow me to set the scene...two hyper, diapered 2-year-olds, roused prematurely from their naps, chase each other around the examining room vying for my iPhone, which as it turns out, is the only mode of suitable (though somewhat questionably so) entertainment I've remembered to bring along. Bean, being the bigger and stronger of the two, rips the phone from Roo's hands with ease and positions herself facing a corner. Roo, smaller, but much scrappier and utterly fearless, climbs onto the plastic chair that is positioned too close to the examining table, scampers onto the table, and with a running leap jumps directly onto his sister's head from a height that is greater than either of them. The phone crashes to the ground, two toddlers wail, the doctor knocks, and we're just getting started.
Fast forward to vaccines. Flu shot for Bean, Pneumococcal conjugate for both (Roo gets his special egg-free flu shot at the allergist). Imagine you are 2 years old and your greatest fear in life is that you might one day need a shot. Now, imagine that not only is your mother requiring you to submit to this horrendous and seemingly inexplicable form of torture, but first, you must watch your sister suffer. When she stops writhing and sobbing long enough for me to get a hand on you, guess what? Your turn! And oh yeah, I forgot the lollipops, so Bean gets the soggy half-chewed ring-pop she started 3 weeks ago. Roo, one linty organic pop from the bowels of my purse coming right up.
Feeling guilty about my lack of pre-planning for the appointment, I attempted to regain the love of my children by stopping at the grocery store for balloons on the way home. Having been brainwashed by their father, they both bypassed the princesses and superheroes in favor of football balloons. With mylar footballs in hand, shots were forgotten, Mom was forgiven, and all was well with the world. Until of course, in all her enthusiasm to show Daddy her Chicago Bears balloon, Bean managed to shake hers right off the string and away it went. One luft balloon filled with unspeakable sadness.