Knowing and KNOWING

You know, watching someone do something day after day after day for years and years does not make you an expert on doing that thing yourself. Not that I would have said it would if you had asked me.

Now, if I had asked ME, I have to wonder if my answer would have been different.

I hope it would be.

Mike dropped Rossi off Sunday night for the Thanksgiving holiday. The family is heading off to the east coast (good thing I'm posting this so far after the fact that not only is he back from the trip, but TWO holidays have passed since this trip) for Thanksgiving and he found out just yesterday that the doggie day-care he normally goes to won't accept Roz any longer because she requires shots.

Requires shots?

Uh...

Roz is confortable enough at our house that she fits in with our routine. She has a few quirks, but nothing that would become aggravating in under a week, so we agreed to watch her over the holiday for Mike and Kate. She's here, and look, I have insulin to give her in the morning and the evening.

Now, I watched my dad or my brother give my brother insulin shots for years, over a decade. I know to roll the bottle to mix the insulin. I know to tip the bottle upside down and draw the syringe slowly so as to not introduce air. I recall now to inject the same amount of air into the bottle before removing the insulin. I know to snap the syringe to dislodge any air bubbles, and I certainly know to remove said air bubbles before injecting the insulin.

Knowing all of this and actually DOING all of this are two (mostly) different things.

Good thing Rossi is more patient than my brother was when he was her age. I'd be in a heap of hurting if she weren't.