Oh this poor little Microbe. I can tell that these jabs really hurt, because he did the same sort of cry as last time (a sharp, inconsolable wailing) and his smiling, peachy face transformed instantly to a ball of deepest purple misery.
This time I gave him a comfort feed at the surgery immediately afterwards and it took yonks because he was still racked with full-body-ju-ju-judders while trying to su-su-suckle. Bless him – he still managed to smile at me on the way home.
Now he’s home and Calpol’d up ..but he’s still blotchy and flushed and keeps crying and squealing in his sleep and waking himself up, so I have to rock him or comfort-feed him back to sleep every 30 minutes or so.
Oh well. It’s all for his greater good and, as the nurse commented, he’s too young to remember it. I suppose this also means that he’s too young to remember that he spent the morning dancing to show tunes with his mummy. Shame…