Poor Joseph needed his pre-kindergarten shots. When I called our new pediatrician (who we had never seen) to get an appointment, they had one available the next day. Being such a great mother, I forgot to fully prepare Joseph for the fact that he was getting shots. And he was not happy. That afternoon the area around one of his shots started to get discolored and warm. In a hope of keeping him from getting more upset, I tried to relate shots to a recent trip we took to Gettysburg.
"Your body is fighting the disease! That spot on your arm is the battleground and when your body wins, the disease can never attack your whole body."
Joseph was VERY excited about this. He proudly displayed his "battle" to everyone in the house. Matthew even ran around the house calling out "Ba-ow-ing, Joseph awm ba-ow-ing." I thought I had turned the situation around.
But I had underestimated Joseph. He took my explanation a little too literal; that night he comes into my room, "Ouch! One of those men battling in my arm just popped out of the shot and it hurt."
"Honey, there aren't any men in your arm. The battle is between your blood and the disease."
"Yeah, the men in there are wearing blue and gray uniforms." (remember out recent trip to Gettydburg, I guess he was listening!)
"There are no men, men how could they fit inside your arm?"
"Then who is fighting the battle in the blood?"
"Hemoglobins and the disease."
"Hemoglobins are men this small (showing a space between his thumb and finger 1/2 inch wide), they are fighting in my arm battle."
"Close enough. Go to bed."