Liam and I took the dog out for a walk this morning. We walked across two streets and around an empty lot that is surrounded by houses on all four sides that used to be a school. This is One of Liam’s favorite places in town; his favorite activities is rolling down the hill on the lot.
On our way back from rolling, Liam decides he wants to race his old, slow mom, that has the dog. So the dog is pulling me faster than I usually am able to move. Neither the dog or the kid are able to walk in a straight line and they collided knocking Liam to the ground. Liam skinned his knee, and the way he’s wailing I was a little afraid that he knocked his kneecap out of place or broke his leg. (Occasionally, my kneecaps come out of place.) The dog was barking at some little yappy pups that are bouncing on the fence like rubber balls and Liam wants me to carry him. I don’t because I’m afraid the dog will dart taking both of us with him.
When we get to the house, I clean up his cut with soap and water afterwards, I put a little Neosporin on to numb the pain. He’s sitting on the couch watching cartoons in the living room going,”Is it almost gone?”After many hugs and kisses he’s sitting quietly waiting for the boo boo to go away magically like it does on the Neosporin commercial.
I’m not making fun of him because I remember having similar boo boos. And Liam’s daddy still wails like that when he gets a boo boo. When I was little, I would scrape something and my grandma would let me sit on the couch until I felt better without judgment because, after all, I was dying. My grandma was a very wise woman who had reared many children, her own and otherwise. Eventually, I would forget the pain and run off to play.
It’s funny, my mom and I were on the phone the other day talking about how we remembered the small things that people would do for us. When I was little we had a Winterfest (which they are bringing back next year, YEAH!) where you could rent ice skate and skate on the fountain in the park and they had a smaller one for the kids.. The last year we went I kept falling on the ice in the kids section. There was a boy there that was slightly older than me; every time I would fall he would offer to help pick me up. I never saw him again; I don’t know what his name was, but I’ll never forget how he picked me up. Mom told me about the boy who fixed her hair from behind on the bleachers at a pep rally at school.
Sometimes it’s the small kindnesses that make all the difference.