Trips to the doctor, dentist and getting my daughter to take medicine are a major event. I often feel like I’m entering the ring with an indefeatable opponent, with the willpower and strength of a Sumo and a banshee wail to match. I’m not one to admit defeat, so will investigate all options open to me before deciding whether bribery or non-negotiation are the routes to take.
Here’s how I survived this week without even a squeak or a tear…but terms and conditions have been applied!
‘Oh no Mummy, not the dentist.’
I can only say that visits to the dentist have been more like an encounter between the wide mouthed frog and the Alligator. Patently pointless. No amount of nagging or removal of television rights has altered this, but patience and gentle persuasion actually has. It’s taken four visits for my daughter to be able to trust this dentist. The last one physically pulled out a baby tooth a couple of years ago with his bare hands and charged us £200 for the displeasure. We’re now with an NHS dentist, who hasn’t pulled anything or charged us a penny. Miniminx happily opens wide to show off her pearly whites and even though she says she’s shaking afterwards, she was still cracking jokes in the chair. Her last trip was rewarded with
a bribe membership to the Beano Club – this one had the potential for a month’s membership to Club Penguin.
Terms and conditions; on no account are you to squeal, misbehave, wriggle or wrestle with the dentist, just be good.
‘I am not, not, not going to have an injection!’
Early years injections always ended in tears (both of us) and usually a fever, so you can imagine this trip for Typhoid and Hep A was not exactly being looked upon as a walk in the park. However, I was determined this time would be different.
SYesterday at 7am, I covered Miniminx’s upper arms with cream and wrapped them in clingfilm. Two hours later were in with the Doctor for our shots. She nearly fell off her chair laughing when Miniminx took off her cardi to reveal her peculiar plasticated arms but there was method to my madness.
‘It’s anaesthetic cream so she won’t be afraid of the injection.’ I
‘Can you give me your arm?’ said the Doctor.
‘Yes, but I can’t look at the needle’ said Miniminx. I was surprised at her easy cooperation.
‘I’m just going to put the needle in.’
‘Ok.’ I was bracing myself for the blood curdling scream.
‘It’s a bit scratchy.’
You couldn’t hear a pin drop!
‘Your turn Mummy!’
Another month of membership to Club Penguin. Plus my nerves and hearing are still intact.
Terms and conditions; on no account are you to squeal, misbehave, wriggle or wrestle with the doctor, just be good.
‘Oh I hate tablets! I’m not taking them!’
I now have to coax Miniminx to take anti-malaria tablets for the next 18 days – at great cost I might add, about £200 for the both of us, but getting such a serious illness is a risk I just don’t want to take. So now my bank balance is really suffering and I’ve had enough of bribery.
As the Doctor starts to explain that the tablets for malaria are just one a day she then finds the children’s dose is three tablets. I spot a glint in Miniminx’s eye. She’s calculating her bonanza for taking 54 doses. I turn to look at her with eyes of steel. She can not out-psych me on this one.
‘Hmmm, malaria is really dangerous isn’t it?’ I say to the Doctor.
‘Yes, there’s a fact sheet on it.’
‘Oooh, nasty….ewk…yuck…we definitely wouldn’t want to get that.’ I say with eyebrows raised.
I pass the crib sheet to Miniminx.
‘Darling you really must take these tablets. It’s a nasty disease you can get from a mosquito bite. Have a look at this if you don’t understand.’
She read it.
And read it again.
By the tone of my voice she knows it’s non-negotiable.
‘Yes Mummy, I promise I will.’
Terms and conditions; on no account are you to bargain, haggle, nag or pester me, just be good – final.
Oh, if you want to know what cream we used, it’s called EMLA – apparently popular among users of Botox and fillers – and about £2 at the chemist without a prescription.