Children and Pain

"Daddy, I don't like it when you're Dr. Daddy."

Prince scraped his leg today jumping around outside. So Dr. Daddy needed to come in, clean the wound, and then apply bandaids. This brought on misery and anguish beyond degree.

Once they were applied and he had finally stopped crying, I had a chance to interview him as to why exactly he doesn't like Dr. Daddy.

"Doctors give me shots. I don't like shots."
Son, I can't give you shots.
"... o_o ...? "
That's right. I don't have any shots to give you and I don't know how to even if I had them. I cannot give you shots.
"I like Dr. Daddy! And I like Dr. Mommy. I just don't like any other doctors."

We tried explaining later why he needs shots, but we're not quite there yet.

[pictured: Prince has claimed the ownership of my AUN polo shirts and hats because they turn him into Super Mario. They are also an ideal length for a potty-training boy.]
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In other news, Princess rolled over. She rolled over off the couch and under the coffee table. She recovered quickly; her mother is another story.