Another day, another three needles.
The good thing about being a baby is not knowing what's about to happen. Everything's new, and then quickly forgotten. Poor old mum and dad were on edge all morning before we went to the see the doctor, while I was happily gurgling away and smiling at every chance.
Last time we had needles I carried on like a bit of a pork chop, and everyone cried. This time I played it cool, while everyone else cried!
I didn't make a sound for the first needle. I gave a whimper with the second. And gave a low level howl on the third. I'd probably rate it at 65% on the ear piercing scale. I've done louder cries when I've been hungry, or when I've pee'ed through my nappy.
Mum and dad were very proud of me once again.
Dad said the hardest thing for him was when I looked directly at him just before the first needle, and gave him a smile.
I bounced back pretty soon and had a feed and a normal day of grabbing at the frog and the purple bug thing on my playmat.
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