You mean dollars?

Holy fucking four hundred and sixteen dollars, Batman!

I just couldn't even believe it when the receptionist gave me the grand total. She had to say it three times while I stood there with my mouth open, uncomprehending. Finally, I snatched my debit card away and rooted around in my purse for a credit card and stood there with my heart beating "$416, $416, $416, $416" while she typed everything in.

Then the nurse kept asking if Big Kid got to go do something special now...Um yeah, he gets to go to Super Target and pick up a pack of diapers for his brother, and I might even let him rub my back while I cry. He was going to get a Happy Meal until you bastards stole all of my money.

Damn, damn, damn. I adore my doctor and agree that she works HARD, worked her ass off to get that higher education and paid dearly for it I'm sure. She puts her baby in daycare so she can take care of people daily. I want her to make lots and lots of money...but $416 for 30 minutes and three shots?? Ugggggh.

The good news is that Big Kid adored her and the nurse, and handled his shots like a champ. The bad news is that I feel like I'm going to puke every time the figure 416 creeps into my mind.