Last night after her bath, Todder 2 tripped over the corner of a stray gift box and slammed her forehead against the doorframe of her room. It was her hardest fall to date, and the impact left an ugly pump knot as proof. After consoling her and checking her pupils, we decided she was probably OK, just bruised and sore. Still, we checked on her every two hours from midnight till 8 AM just to make sure. It was an eventful evening and a l-o-n-g night.
Being of the squeamish sort, there’s nothing I hate more than an injury to one of our children. My immediate response is one of “I can’t look. Just tell me how bad it is and what we need to do.” For this and a few other reasons (like gross anatomy and cadavers), I could never be a doctor. If it’s a skinned knee or a splinter, I’m on top of it, but I’m going to have to call in some back-up for anything more serious.
Fortunately, the Spouse can handle injuries with a little more sense and calm. He knows how to swoop in and comfort while simultaneously evaluating the severity of an injury… all without passing out (and while ignoring his wife’s dramatics). What most troubles him is never the injury itself, but the fact that something unfortunate has happened to one of his children. It tears him up. His heart is so tender towards them and their helpless fragility. I know, without a doubt, that he would rather any and all of it happen to him than to watch one of his girls experience pain, even if only for a few minutes.
So, while I’m busy panicking, Googling first-aid tips, and generally freaking out, the Spouse is quietly taking care of the situation. And, really, he’s doing much more than that. He’s tending to the crisis with love and compassion. He’s teaching our children that daddies want to protect and console and make everything alright again. He’s fathering. And, in so doing, he’s modeling the tender love of another Father. The girls don’t understand that now. But, one day they will. And, for that, I’m most thankful.
May your celebrations tonight be free of pump knots and full of fun. Happy new year!
Pump knots are the worst. Twenty minutes before leaving for Nashvile for Thanksgiving, Drake decided to change his shirt while on his rib-stick (in the house of course) did a face plant right into the edge of the wall. I freaked out while Mac saved the day. With ice and Mortin in tow we loaded up and headed on our way.
Oh my gosh! Do you remember when your fell off your slide and did a number on your forehead? Your dad came to the rescue.
Seems like another time I did a number on my ankle while playing hide & seek at your house and your dad come to my rescue as well.
I guess kids will be kids :)God absolutely models His love by having dads be so comforting in fixing bumps and bruises.
Happy New Year! <3 Julie
Julie,
I can only imagine how many bumps and bruises you have with two boys. Glad Mac was around as back-up when the rib-stick incident happened!
Thanks for the reminders of Dad. He had a very calming affect. I remember when I broke my hand playing softball in 4th grade… he was watching and jumped the fence when it happened. Since he was normally so low-key, I knew it was serious! It did end my softball career…
Hope you and your family had a great Christmas. Happy new year!!