The best medicine

There are two cure-alls in this world: a sympathy Band-Aid and kissing the ouchie better. I discourage the first and encourage the second in our house.

When I can't dispense this tender First Aid I expect others to jump in, and so it happens on occasion that Tweenie or Rascal have to pinch hit. It usually works pretty well.

Of course, when we're in public someone invariably gets hurt, either by accident or while misbehaving. It happened again during my recent physical exam.

Alert: stirrup deets to follow. All squeamish persons must click away from this post immediately! That means you, Alejandro.

I was splayed out on the exam bed in nothing but a hospital smock. The doctor began his exam. Rascal was yanking latex gloves out of the dispenser one at a time. He reached over to the female anatomy flipchart and slipped off the rolling stool onto the floor.

He started to bawl. He pointed at his skinned knee. "Big ouchie, mama! Kissy!"

I asked Tweenie to take care of him.

"Nuh-uh, he's bleeding. I'm not touchin' it. Eww!"

Kye wandered over and poked at it. "Deh?" he asked.

Rascal bawled louder. My cooing noises from atop the table weren't helping.

The nurse leaned over. "Oh, bless your heart!"

The doctor looked over. "Hey, little fella. Bless your heart!"

We learned when we first moved to the south, you always bless each others' hearts. You can pretty much say anything you want to a person, as long as you bless their heart at the end.

Everyone was trying to placate Rascal. He was loving the attention, but I could see it was only a tiny scratch. Although I felt sorry for him I was in a certain discomfort myself, being exposed below the waist. "Um, excuse me?"

They couldn't hear me over the wailing and their blessings.

"Hello?"

Slowly, the doctor and nurse returned to my side and finished up. Rascal quickly realized a kissy was not immediately available, and so he improvised and kissed himself better. Then he looked up at me and smiled.

All better!