Monday, February 05, 2007

Sweetness That Great Should Be Bottled

There's no doubt about it, Little Man inherited my clumsiness. He also probably inherited my lack of athleticism and my obsession with books, although I'm willing to give him the benefit of the doubt on the athleticism and think that with his father's coaching, that he can develop more of an ability than I ever did, as I was the kid who prayed for an upset tummy before every P.E. class.

In the past two weeks, we've gotten called twice by the daycare because Little Man had had accidents. The first time, he ran into a bookcase head on. How one doesn't notice a bookcase that's a whole foot taller than oneself, I can't explain. Except to tell you that accidents like these happen to me on a weekly basis. As I happened to be watching Little Man over the Web cam when they called me at work to report the incident, I knew that he was fine, as he was running around, live on my computer's monitor.

And last week, we got called again, this time to report that Little Man decided to slide head first down a one-foot high angled mat, only to be stopped by the carpet. I was assured that he was fine once again, that he'd simply added a carpet burn to the bump that was healing in the same spot from the previous accident.

Some mothers might freak out at the daycare, asking them why these things keep happening. But not me. Because having been at home with my son for 14.5 months, I know that the only way to prevent him from injury would be to put him in a padded suit, in a padded room, and duct tape him in one place.

What I have done instead, is figure out a way to make Little Man stop crying as promptly as possible when he slams his hand on the table while excitedly waving to the dog, or manages to get his leg caught under the couch cushions.

What I do, and I hope you're taking notes about his, because this is only the greatest invention you have never heard of, thought of, or even could have imagine would be invented during your lifetime.

I kiss it better. That's right. I take the injured appendage/head/internal organ. And I kiss it. Repeatedly. Until the tears are gone.

I know, I'm a freaking genius, and I should be selling this stuff.

I can assure you that as out there as my method may be, they actually work. The scientific explanation for this is that the kissing confuses the nerve endings. While they're going into melt down, thinking "holy crap, ouch! pain!" you start kissing and they go "what? What is this? a pleasing feeling? I don't understand..." And they calm down, which in turn calms the toddler down. I call this scientific phenomenon maximus painus reductionis. Patent pending.

This morning, I walked into Little Man's room to wake him up and when I went to get him out of his crib, he managed to press his wrist really hard on the bracelet I was wearing. I can't really explain to you what happened, because it really sounds like it wouldn't be physically possible. But let me assure you, dear reader, that there was a wrist involved, a bracelet, and a little pain for Little Man.

He wasn't crying as I lifted him out of the crib. But he looked at his wrist and proceeded to press it against my lips so that I could make it better.

Having a baby is what convinces me that I might, just might have super powers.

Of course I'm pretty sure that Superheroes don't get pink eye, which I'm pretty sure I have.

Love,

Catwoman.

2 comments:

Julie said...

You are a genius! : ) And you know, you are a superhero as well - at least in Little Man's eyes.

Emma in Canada said...

Ouch on the pinkeye.

When Taylor was a baby my friend bought me a little gift basket that had something in it called owie magic. It was a glittery sort of cream and the instructions said to rub in to affected area and seal with a kiss. It worked a charm.