Magic kisses

There are some things you end up doing as a parent that, no matter how much you swear you won't, are simply inevitable. You might find baby talk or, at the very least, talking an octave and a half higher than you normally speak, to be repulsive and grating but, maybe not as often as some people do it, you're going to speak to your small child that way at some point. You're going to spend an inordinate amount of time inspecting your infant's poop and talking about it with your spouse. You're going to memorize Good Night Moon. And you're also going to attempt to make your child's injuries go away by kissing them.

It's an odd phenomenon that can probably be traced back for centuries. It has always seemed a bit bizarre to me, not to mention a terrible diagnosis for the majority of injuries. And yet, with Elliott, it has been a common occurrence for months. My son is, to say the least, a bit injury-prone. Virtually every time we change a diaper we'll discover a new bruise or scratch on his legs. He also has yet to learn how to walk. Oh, don't get me wrong, he can run. His technique is lacking but he can definitely run. However, to my knowledge, he has never simply strolled calmly from point A to point B in his life. 

That being said, scraped knees and hands are routine. He knows about 10 words and one of them is 'bonk.' Another is 'uh-oh'. We will often hear a small thud, look around the corner to find Elliott sitting on the ground, holding his head in both hands looking like he has just received horrible news from a telegram. 

And ever since Shelbi first kissed his head following a 'bonk,' it has become the only remedy he'll accept. He's like a professional athlete who gets hooked on pain-killers. If he stubs a toe he immediately runs to mom for a kiss... then to dad, just to cover his bases, and then back to mom for another one like a patient upping his morphine drip. But, a few days ago, Elliott pinched a finger and quickly brought it to my magical healing workshop. I kissed it and he started to go back to playing. Then he looked back down at his finger and held it back up to me. I kissed it again. Again he stared at his finger with a somewhat perplexed look on his face. It dawned on me that, to my chagrin, he was starting to put 2 and 2 together. His finger still hurt. He was realizing that, not only was I not magic and all powerful, but, even worse, myself, and perhaps his mom as well, may have been putting on a ruse for months. 

Obviously I knew the day would come when he would realize how fatally flawed I actually was. Tickling and swinging upside down won't always be cures for a bad mood and getting him untangled from one of Shelbi's shirts won't always draw a round of applause from him but I didn't expect it to start happening before he was even two years old. I guess I liked the power trip that came with my magic kisses. I've always been a big fan of stepping over and extremely low-set bar and receiving the accolades. Thank goodness we have another one on the way who will hopefully take a bit longer before he or she draws back the curtain.

Posted by Matthew Sherman at 10/5/2010 10:48 AM
Categories: uncategorized

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