Sam finally had his 5-year check up yesterday, which went very well, I was told (Rich had the day off, so he was able to take him to the doctor). Sam had to get three shots and was pretty scared. Rich was spinning all sorts of tales trying to get Sam in touch with his bravery. The one that seemed to do the trick was about superheros having to stay healthy and get shots, too.
After the shots, which Sam didn't even cry for, Rich asked him for a high five for doing so well. They did their old up high, on the side, down low, too slow game. But this time Sam wasn't too slow. He slapped Rich's hand!
Rich, feigning astonishment, told Sam that the shots must have made him super fast, like Flash. So Sam went through the day thinking the shots made him into a superhero.
Then at bedtime he said to me, "Mommy? What was in those shots they gave me, anyway?"
He seemed a little upset that he'd been changed into Flash, his little lip trembling. So I told him that Daddy was just joking around with him and that he wasn't really Flash. That the shots just keep him healthy so he can grow up to be big and strong and smart, like lots of superheros.
"I know, Mom. I need to be hit by lightening to be like Flash." "No, Sammy. You don't want to be struck by lightening! That would hurt bad, maybe even kill you. You don't want to become a superhero that way. Let's find another superhero you want to be like."
"Hmmm, what about Ironman?", he asked.
"Now that's a good one! The super thing about him is that he's super smart. And you know how you get super smart? By paying attention in school, trying really hard, studying and listening to your teachers and to Mommy and Daddy." (Sam's been having trouble listening lately.)
"What about Captain America?", he asked.
"Another good one! He's super brave and super good. He's a soldier who makes good decisions, thinks of others before himself, and is very courageous. You can be like him by listening to us and your teachers, trying hard at school, making good decisions, eating and drinking lots of good things, exercising and getting lots of sleep."
This conversation seemed to calm him down and, I'm hoping, sink into his little boy subconscious a bit.
"What about Superman, Mom?", he asked.
"No, he's an alien. A good guy, but an alien. Let's stick with Ironman and Captain America."
"Good idea."
Then we sang our song and he fell fast asleep, surely dreaming of chasing bad guys and flying through the sky.
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