I took all four of my kids to get their flu shots this week. We all know how pleasant this outing can be, so I kept it a secret until we were enroute. Once, the cat was out of the bag about our reason for the doctor’s visit, the complaints began, but we persisted in our journey, and all five of us crammed into our doctor’s office for the appointment.
I knew I was in for an interesting half hour. But what I didn’t know was that this process of administering my four children’s flu shots would perfectly showcase each of their personalities, as well as the stereotypes of their birth order. I almost had to laugh when walking out of the office afterward, thinking to myself, “That was crazy, and that really couldn’t have been any more perfect.”
To pass the time while we waited, I attempted to read them all a story. Two of my boys were unimpressed, and instead decided to entertain each other by blowing air into plastic surgical gloves (this could be a whole different story). Eventually the nurse entered the room and immediately asked the kids, “Who wants to go first?” I figured that none of them would jump at this opportunity. I mean, it’s like asking four kids who wants to go first to get their nails clipped (again, another story for another time). Grace, our typical first-born and eager beaver, surprised me by jumping up off her chair shouting, “I will!” She had a smile on her face as the nurse stuck her with the needle, all the while holding my hand and not even wincing. “That didn’t even hurt!” she proclaimed as she jumped off the table with a smile on her face. This is Grace, in all of her glory – positive, upbeat, and an unquestioned leader in our family.
When the nurse asked, “Who’s next?”, Grace, Brady, and Quinn all shout, “Hayden, it’s your turn!” Funny thing is, I don’t think Hayden ever had a say in the matter, as the other kids unanimously decided that his 3-minute lead on Brady in the delivery room and subsequent status as the “older” twin had predetermined his fate. So typical, and this poor pseudo-middle child went along with it, climbing up on the table without asking a question. Hayden is so easygoing and flexible, which is a great asset, but can lead to him getting pushed around by the stronger personalities in our family. Hayden also has potentially the lowest pain threshold of any human being I have ever met, so of course he started screaming at the top of his lungs the minute the shot was administered. I snuggled him in my arms as he grabbed his arm, writhing “Why?! Why?! Why?!” over and over.
The nurse called for her next victim patient, and Brady climbed up on the table will a stern resolve in his eyes. Straight-faced and stoic, Brady sat upright and stone faced, glaring at the nurse as she stuck the needle into his arm, not even flinching. This is Brady. Tough as nails, never one to show weakness. I am sure he was cringing inside, but you’d never know it as you watched him take his shot like the best of them. He didn’t smile, he didn’t frown, and he certainly wasn’t going to whine or give the nurse any indication of weakness. He jumped down off the table and sat back in his chair like nothing ever happened. I asked him if he was okay, and he retorted coolly, “I’m fine.” Perfect, moving on.
Finally, it was Quinn’s turn. He had already started crying in the chair the minute Hayden got his shot, and was whimpering as I lifted him up and onto the table. I snuggled him in my arms, holding his left arm accessible for the nurse. As I held him, all three big kids came over to join in the Quinn snuggle session, rubbing his legs and his back and reassuring him as the nurse gave him his shot. “Quinn, you can do it!” “Quinn, you are so brave!” “Quinn, we are so proud of you!” Even Hayden pulled himself out of his own pity party to be there for his little brother. Quinn screamed hysterically, and the big kids each immediately attempted to assuage his discontent with promises of “prizes” of various sorts for being so good. After he caught his breath, all three of them carried him out of the room to pick his sticker. Quinn is our baby.
Taking four kids to the doctor together for shots is no fun. But who has time to make separate appointments for each of their kids for this kind of thing? When I headed to the doctor’s office that afternoon, I fully expected some kind of chaos, a few cooperative patients, and some tears for sure. The perfect depiction of birth-order stereotypes and personality showcases was unexpected, but welcome, insight hidden in the most routine of outings.
