Plop, plop, fizz, fizz, oh what a relief it is

Yesterday, Emily was having a hard time putting her crocks on because it seemed like she was nursing her left foot. I went over to her and asked her if her foot was hurt and she cupped her foot and asked, whyyyyyyy?

We still have a hard time getting her to tell us if she any pain anywhere since her experience with the dentist and she associates an ouch with a shot.

I looked at her foot and realized that she must have got a mosquito bite and scratched it to death, leaving it raw and sore. She looked at me and noticed the look on my face and quickly drew her foot under her leg and cried, "I don't want to go to the dentist!"

I laughed- I know, I'm cruel- and told her that she definitely didn't have to go to the dentist, but we would have to put some medicine on it. That was followed by her getting up and yelling, NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! I calmed her down and explained to her that this medicine would not hurt and it was actually fun because it would bubble when I put it on her foot. Yes, I still do the peroxide on cuts. She decided that she would trust this parent that lets people in white coats torture her and calmed down. We went into the bathroom to look for the peroxide and since I have the worse luck in the world, I couldn't find it. I hunted everywhere with no such luck . I finally found some Neosporin, so I attempted to explain to her that this one wasn't as fun, but it wouldn't hurt either.

"No," she stated to me and put her hand up to stop me.

"Come on, why not?" I pleaded back.

"Because, I want the pop rock medicine!"