Shots. They’re never fun, even when they’re a part of your life twice a week. My middle daughter Erin, has been rolling up her little sleeves and bravely enduring her allergy shots for the last several months. In that time, I’ve never seen her yell, cry, or even cringe. That’s why I never thought she’d have problems when it came to her pre-k shots during her 5-year-old check-up. I honestly don’t remember it being that bad for my oldest daughter, so I thought this should be a piece of cake for Erin.Think again. The check-up was going great until that first shot punctured my sweet girl’s skin. My first clue that these shots were very different from her allergy shots was when the nurse refused to let Erin watch the needle going through her skin. Erin’s a little quirky. She likes to watch. Me, not so much, or more accurately, not at all. I turn away, close my eyes as tight as I can, and wait for the pain to come. And that’s with the kids, not me. I’m even worse when it comes to someone intentionally stabbing me with a needle filled with a vaccine. Now I fear Erin will be the same way when she gets her next round of vaccines. For her, first came the tears. Big tears. Slowly. Rolling. Down. Her. Face. Next, came the crying. Loud crying, that didn’t stop even after the last vaccine was finished, and the nurse had slapped on two silvery, sparkly bandages. So how do you console an inconsolable kid and her mom who went through the trauma of vaccines? Frozen yogurt. Now who wants to take her to get her allergy shots on Saturday?