Then her smile transformed into a frown. She turned to me and said, "Mom, can you hold my hand?"
I prepared myself for the worst, remembering her sister's reaction to her kindergarten shots- it was a thrashing fest that caused both me and her dad to hold her still while the nurse jabbed her with syringes which only got the nurse some decent kicks to the abdomen from our 5-year-old wild child. Many screams and tears accompanied that episode.
So, when Amara just wanted to hold my hand, I calmly reached around her, ready to steady her body from thrashing. But then she said, "Mom, don't hold me. Just hold my hand." Okay... The nurse then asked me if I could hold both her hands, y'know, just in case. I obeyed. Amara sat up at the edge of the table and wanted to watch the whole thing. Again, I wasn't so sure she should, but tried to let her do things the way she wanted to. Then the shots began.
I expected her to squeeze my hands and tense up and start to cry. Nope. She remained calm, didn't even give a little squeeze, just watched each shot go into her legs. At one point, I think she let out a tiny whimper, but there were no tears, no screams. Just bravery at it's finest. Wow. 2 shots in each leg and for her medal of honor, 4 blue and red Snoopy bandaids and a sticker.
Before the vaccines were administered, Uncle Mike (Dr. Lauret to the community) did the well child examination, then began to fill out her kindergarten papers. He was going down the list and checking things off, "No diseases, check... No special medications, check... No disabilities, check..."
Lily, sitting next to me, turns and says, "Well, she does have one disability."
"What?" I asked with a little alarm that I had forgotten about something.
"Well, she can't fly." Lily said matter-of-factly, followed by a joking smile.
I affirmed that she indeed could not fly, to which Uncle Mike responded, "Yes. That's a very common disability. In fact, probably the most common disability I come across!"
That's my Lily for you. She loves to joke.