Metal Meredith

Phil and I made a deal this morning. I would take him and the kids to breakfast and he would come with me to get the free, drive through flu shots that the city was giving away.

One year, I had to trick Phil into thinking I was taking him to Costco to buy him beer when we turned the corner to a tiny, in store clinic and I made him get a flu shot, right there in the middle of Costco. I am pretty sure I am still in trouble for that one.

The next year, I took Vivienne to get her shot and the nice lab lady at the pediatrician’s office hooked me up with a shot for free. Phil got off easy that year because I had already got mine and Vivienne had hers and I figured if he got some awful flu, at least we would be ok and could point and laugh at him while he achy and feverish.

The following year I was pregnant and didn’t want to get one. Again, Phil was off the hook. So I figured he had it coming. Henry has had both of his, Vivienne is going this week and I wasn’t chancing it this year with a newborn and a four year old in preschool who’s favorite snack in one she picks out of her nose. That is a little too germy for me.

The Health Department was training for a mass inoculation, so shots were free to test the system. Vivienne was in the back seat the whole time asking questions about why we had to get shots and who had to get them and why all of the people were in their cars and what the people with the hats and clipboards were doing and why were we still in line and when were we going home. When I was finished, she asked when Phil was getting his. He was through before I even got mine, but she missed it. She then patted him on the arm and told him how brave he was not to cry.

Apparently, Vivienne thinks her dad is a weeny. Honestly, sometimes I do, too.