When my CA grandson (12) flew out on his own to visit my guy and me, he received his second vaccine shot the day before. We were all a bit worried about him flying with side effects, but when we picked him up at the airport (see Oh, you’re one of THOSE | roughwighting ) he just shrugged and said “I slept for the entire 6 ½ hour flight.”
Our local 11-year-old grandson, Clark, and Sky became best buddies almost immediately. Both boys joined us for hikes at Walden Pond and Mt. Monadnock, ice cream forays, swimming, and hours of Monopoly.
Clark turned 12 during Sky’s visit, so my daughter signed him up for his first Covid vaccine the day after.
Sky chimed in, “It’s a piece of cake, Clark. I’ll come too.”
So at 10 a.m. on a sunny summer morning, I drove both boys to the CVS where Clark was registered with an appointment. Sky babbled during the 15-minute drive, “Nothing to worry about,” and “You’ll hardly feel a thing.” And, “just move your arm around afterwards so it won’t be too sore.”
Clark gulped: “Will you make funny faces or something when the nurse pokes in the needle?”
Sky gave a grin and a thumbs up.
At the vaccine desk, Clark gave his name, answered a few questions, and the pharmacist came out with a needle and a smile, leading us to a half-walled alcove. Sky jabbered the entire way, “this will be easy!”
Once Clark sat down and the pharmacist readied the needle, Clark and I looked around. “Sky, where are you?” Clark squeaked.
From the middle of the store we heard Sky shout, “I HATE needles!”
“You promised to make funny faces!” Clark, 12 suddenly turning 5, whined.
We heard Sky’s voice closer. “I’ll stand right outside here.”
Clark and I looked down, where we could see Sky’s shoes poking underneath the alcove . We both rolled our eyes at each other.
“Already?!” Clark asked as if disappointed.
Sky poked his head in. “See? Easy peasy.”