The joys of taking Samilicous to the doctor

There are certain similiarities to my children. As much as I think they are so different in some ways, they are mirror images in others. Like baths – Jessie used to scream so much that she gave herself hives, and Sam’s the grubbiest kid I’ve ever met because he’ll literally cry so hard, he pukes when I give him a bath. And the doctor – oh, the doctors… Jess had ear infections all the time when she was little. And she HATED going to the doctor’s. And Sam is following right along in step behind her. He refused to get on the scale, so I had to get on the scale first holding him and then drop him on the floor and get on without him to get an accurate weight. Then the time came to take his temp – and he clamped his little arm down and wasn’t going to let the nurse stick that thing into his armpit. I had to pry it up (and he’s scary strong for a two year old) and the poor nurse shoved it in. Meanwhile, he’s got a fever, and is screaming – so he’s all sweaty (and grubby – see the beginning of the paragraph). Finally, we finish the preliminaries, and I latch him on (one of those instances when I’m actually glad he’s still nursing because it’s an instant calm down for him). The doctor came in, he screamed thru the entire exam – fighting and struggling to get away. When it was finally over (he’s got a wicked cough/cold, but nothing else, thank goodness), he stood up and said emphatically “Wet’s get outta dis pwace!”