This is another guest post by my best friend of 25 years and fellow She Speaks graduate, Nicole Holmes:
My recent wild rumpus was not in Times Square or at Walt Disney World, but at the Urgent Care in Wilmington, North Carolina. My feverish 7-year-old daughter had just finished an antibiotic for strep throat when her fever spiked and she complained of a sore throat. Honestly, I wanted to pretend I didn’t hear her. It was dinnertime, and instead of sitting down for spaghetti and meatballs, we loaded up in the minivan and headed to the doctor’s office. It was our third visit to the doctor for strep throat in three months.
Within 10 minutes of entering the exam room, the diagnosis was clear … strep throat … again. This time, instead of the pink liquid antibiotic, the doctor recommended an injection. The 7-year-old did NOT want a shot. Tears started streaming down her face. She cried so hard, she blew snot bubbles. It was sad.
Then, she stomped her foot and said, “I’m NOT getting a shot.”

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