A mommy’s kiss

This afternoon my 3 year old came inside, whimpering over a hurt toe. “I need a bandaid!” she wailed dramatically. She is currently at the stage where every owie warrants a bandaid request.

But as a mom of ten kids I am hard-nosed — the rule around here is, no blood, no bandaid. I scooped her close for a hug and leaned in to examine the toe. Closer I leaned. Closer. The toe showed not a mark.

“There’s no blood!” I said lightly. “I think you’ll be okay.”

She turned away, her body language showing she was a little peeved, though not surprised by my answer.

“Wait,” I said as she started to walk away. “Do you want me to kiss it for you?”

And for a moment as I waited for her reply, I didn’t breathe. She was sporting a bit of a ‘tude. Would she turn me down and walk away pouting? Or did my mommy-kiss still have power?

After a moment of hesitation, her face lost its pout and dissolved into sweetness. “Yes!” she said. And she came to me eagerly and held up her toe with a beaming face. And I kissed that little toe all better.

Mommy magic. I’ve still got it.