Here is another thought provoked by the wonderful life of Brady Sebastian (corresponding picture to be added tomorrow). The other day Brady was doing some wild jumps in the tub, splashing water everywhere. One jump was especially out of control and he crashed his nose against the bottom which sent the tears flowing. This was a clear sign that bath time was over so I got him from the tub and wrapped him in his towel and tried to console him. "Hurt nose" he said "Kiss it". Oh it was so cute, so as the tears flowed, I kissed his little nose and some how it was majic and all the pain was gone. He stopped crying and we proceeded with the evening. It is so amazing what one little comforting kiss does for that little boy. Afterward you can ask him "all better?" and he'll say "better" -- and it is totally over.
In some ways it makes me think why does it take me so long to get over stuff? When I hurt myself I want to whine about it for hours... Like the other day when I burned my neck with the curling iron - there is nothing quite like burning your own flesh that ruins your day. What is it about getting old that takes the power of a kiss away?
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