We don’t lie to our children, but when I asked our 39 pound six-year-old to give three vials of blood today I told her it wouldn’t hurt too much if she didn’t look at her arm. Perhaps my wishful thinking grew vocal cords. Now, sitting in my office an hour later I close my eyes and picture her tear filled eyes as she tells me that I was wrong, it does hurt when someone takes blood from your arm. I wasn’t lying to her; I was willing the situation to be different.
If only I could be the one with my arm getting poked and she could be the one rubbing my hair and promising me that it really is just a necessary pinch followed by Princess Sophia stickers and perhaps a toy from the dollar bin – that would have been much better.