During the 30-minute drive south for a blood draw for Clark and Phil, needed to complete their physicals from a couple of weeks ago, I could easily hear from the back seat
“You’re it.” and a slap.
“I’m not playing.” Slap. Slap.
“Stop it.” Slap. Slap.
“You’re gel lease (jealous).” Slap. Slap.
Now it was my turn.....to intervene. “Both of you stop. Phil does not want to play tag.” They stopped. We dropped Paul off for his weekly racquetball game and I took “the boys” to the free-standing clinic. Phil’s anxiety kicked in while we were standing in line waiting to check in. One minute he was in line with me and the next minute he was gone. I turned around and saw his laughing face on the other side of the glass entry door. "This is great" I thought "he is out of control." Clark stayed by me but was looking for interaction with the receptionist “I can run. Right, Mom?!” “Sh, Clark, just sign the form.” Phil reappeared at my side in time to sign his form. We didn’t even have time to sit down when both were called at the same time. Clark would give blood out of both arms; he has no fear. Phil, on the other hand, cannot stand needles or blood. Clark went one direction and I went with Phil and got permission to stand by his side. He had asked me earlier if I would hold his hand. I did. As the phlebotomist started to clean the needle area Phil jumped. She took notice that he was anxious and after that explained before she did anything. “I need to put this band around your upper arm. Over your pushed-up coat sleeve is fine. And now… (in went the needle) we’re almost done. That’s it. We’re all done.” She was cheerful, understanding and very fast and I was proud of Phil. We celebrated a successful morning by going to The Dollar Tree where both bought a lint roller and socks for Sunday.