Good Pinch, Bad Pinch

Today I was giving my five year old brother a time out, and he pinched me. I held his hands in mine and told him, No pinching.
Then I considered that, and said that actually, there is a time when I want to be pinched. Could he guess when? He calmed down dramatically, puzzled. He couldn't guess. I pointed at my arms and legs and gave the hint that that was where I like to be pinched- could he guess yet? Nope.
He asked his brothers- did they know? Nope.

When I want a shot! I told him. That's when I like to be pinched. Wanna help me do a shot? He thought that that was a great idea. He pinched my arm.
Not hard enough, I said.
This hard? he asked.
Good enough, I said, and stuck the needle into my arm. He pushed on the insulin pen, and the insulin was in in no time at all. He had not let go of the pinch.
Suddenly, he let go, pulling on the pen at the same time. Blood trickled down my arm in a thick line, and clearish liquid pooled by what was quickly becoming a bruise.
He looked at me, alarmed.
Oh well, I said. Good enough. And pulled down my sleeve.

Note to Self: make sure to tell brother to release the pinch, so that when he does I can move the insulin pen at the same time and avoid bleeding.