Caleb just came in from playing outside, perfectly calm but with his arm stuck out towards me.
Mama, I got this and I need you to take care of it. (He shows me his arm, with a scratch on it.)
Hmm, is it bad?
Uh huh. It has a lot of blood, see?
Well, that looks pretty substantial.
Yeah, I don't think I'm gonna survive.
No?
He shakes his head.
What do you think I can do to fix it?
You probably need to put a band-aid on it. (He sighs, ostensibly from the effort of managing this hugely inconvenient war-wound.)
Alright. You go grab the band-aid box and I will put on one.
It's just so big! This is a Daddy-sized boo-boo. It definitely needs a band-aid.
Hey Caleb, let me take a picture of it.
Oh yeah, good idea Mama. That way you can show everyone how big it is.
That was exactly what I was thinking, son.
This warms my heart. Out of my five boys, I have three that would consider a scratch ( one that cannot be seen with th enaked eye) a death sentence. And the two that don't? are 2 and 4 yrs old :)
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