This morning, Jaclyn called while I was on the way in to work. She had been watering her plants when a wasp emerged and stung her hand. The pain was intense, but she drugged herself up and took a half day at work.
When I picked Miles up from daycare, I said, “Do you know what happened to mom today?”
“Yeah!” he lied.
“No you don’t!” I replied. “Mommy got stung by a wasp.”
“Mommy got stung by a wasp,” he echoed.
“Yeah,” I said. “So when we get home we need to be sure to give her lots of lovin’!”
“I give Mommy lots of lovin’!” he agreed.
As we rode home, Miles, clearly pondering Mommy’s boo-boo, said, “Mommy need a Band-Aid.”
“Oh, you know, that’s a good idea!” I said. “When we get home, make sure you ask her if she’s wearing a Band-Aid.”
After we got home and Jaclyn emerged from the bedroom, Miles ran up to her. “Mommy got bit by the wasp! And need a Band-Aid!”
Jaclyn, in fact, did not have a Band-Aid on her finger, but she agreed that maybe it would help her feel better.
“Miles wear a Band-Aid too!” he declared, insisting he also be given a Band-Aid to wear on his finger, so Mommy wouldn’t feel bad. And maybe the pain lingered a bit for her after that, but it looked like Miles had managed to, more or less, make it all better.
The Perils (& Pride) of Paternity 