“…blah… blah… blah… BLOOD.”
Even though I’m surrounded by books and papers with ten tabs open on my browser as I prepare for a Sunday night frenzy of lesson planning, the last word is enough to make me look up and pay attention to what my four-year-old is saying.
“What about blood?”
He lifts his foot and shows me a smear of red covering several toes.
“Daddy said it will be OK. I either stepped in paint or it’s just a little blood.”
He wrinkles his brow and looks to me to tell him that he is indeed fine. I see the question in his eyes.
“I don’t think you played with any red paint today, did you?”
He shakes his head no.
“Well then, may I check your foot to make sure it’s OK? I promise to be gentle.”
He nods, hesitantly, and I grab a washcloth and wet it with warm water.
He sits on my lap, smelling slightly sweaty and sweet. I hold his tiny foot in my hand and begin to dab carefully, searching his face for discomfort. And there it is, a small cut on the top of his foot.
“See?” I show him. “You just have a little boo boo. Would you like a band aid?”
He would, so I grab one, along with some handmade herbal salve given to us by a friend.
He looks concerned so I open the jar. We smell it together and giggle at the green color.
“Like boogers,” he giggles.
“Like boogers,” I agree. “But sweet smelling boogers!”
I place a dab on the sore and cover it up with a band aid, dropping a kiss on his head when I’m finished.
He stands and gives a little hop.
“It’s healing!” he exclaims with a smile and a hug. “I can feel it!”
Such a little thing, to give a band aid and a kiss and just a tiny bit of time. Such a small moment in an ocean of moments that make up our day. Yet it is not insignificant when we make the time to listen…
… to respond…
… to love.
