Why does going to the doctor hurt?

This must be the question Jack was asking himself this morning. 15th month check up today and Jack needed 4 shots. Ouch.

You can imagine what this must be like for Jack: [cue wavy scene change] "Hey this is a new place, oh what's this, some kind of tank with fish in it....ok, Mom and Dad with me, good, I'm ok. Hmmm, Dad sure is being nice to me. What's that paperwork Mom is filling out? Lots of people smiling at me. Ok, bye-bye fishy's. Now where we going? Ok, into this room. Take my clothes off? Who's this lady? Hey, there's flowers on the walls, cool. Why am I being measured? I don't want lay on that bench - Hmmm, back in Mommy's arms, now Daddy's- no Mommy's, that's better. Who's this guy? Why are looking in my ears? Hey, what are those little bottles? And what's with those sticks? Mommy looks tense. Hey, why are you - ah CRAP that HURT!!"

Not that our Jack would ever say, "ah crap". You know, I wonder where our discomfort of hospitals come from. Maybe this is it. No more shots until Jack is four. That's what we were told. He's all caught up. But four years old?! Good lord, I can't imagine what a four-year old Jack will look like. Well, I have some idea.