“Here. Hold HappyBug. This won’t take long.”

HappyBug is happy. I try not to squeeze all the stuffing out of HappyBug. Try to be stalwart. Strong. HappyBug is still happy, considering I’m squeezing pretty darn hard.

HappyBug is happy.
(psst – click photo to find “The Basket of Happy”)

“HappyBug is happy,” I mutter to myself through gritted teeth while I breathe deeply and suck it up, “because HappyBug doesn’t have to get a SHOT.”

I am disinclined to be inoculated.

The nurse guffaws, pattern-interrupting my bad attitude. I glance down at HappyBug’s smiling gaze as she dabs my arm with a bit of gauze and gives me a cartoon band-aid. My grimace turns to a grin. I loosen up. I remember I am loved.

This year, I didn’t want a shot. Didn’t want to wait in line. Didn’t want to pay $35 or pretend to be brave. Didn’t care a whit or a fiddle whether or not I catch the flu.

I got a shot. Because my mom loves me, and it made her happy.

In my book, Mom is NinjaNumberOne. She made me, and takes great care to keep me safely moving on a trajectory of success. NinjaNumberOne says:

1. Always wear your seatbelt.
2. Don’t lay out in the sun.
3. Never ever ever eat donuts.
4. Get a flu shot.

Mom taught me early on – always wear your seatbelt.
(psst – click photo for the beautiful Embrace Life video.)

Last year, I was compelled, against my will and at the last possible minute, to suffer a flu shot. I got shanghaied, strapped in the car, and exactly what I deserved for dawdling. The prehistoric pharmacist intent on administering the dose hovered over me, wheezing like an interrogation droid on the Death Star. I glowered in the corner, chin stubbornly set, a resolute and resistant rebel princess. It took an eternity for him to cross the examination room and painstakingly plunge what felt like a pike into my arm.

I actually had to put a shout out to my Star Wars fan friends:
“What is the name of float-y round thing with the shots that Darth Vader used to threaten / interrogate Princess Leia?”
Apparently it is an IT-O interrogation droid. Eeek!
(psst – click photo for dancing Stormtroopers and Weird Al.)

“Ouch!”

It wasn’t that bad.  My mom was happy, and bought me an iced cream.

HONOR is bringing it full circle, respecting the investment of affection our Ninjas have made in our wellbeing, and taking care of ourselves so we can be of service to others.

Who loves ya, baby?