Pat on the Back

Yesterday, I was a clutz.  After an ever so relaxing acupuncture treatment, I drove to pick up some lunch at the Co-op, where the prepared foods section entices me from blocks away.

After snagging a prime spot on busy Germantown Ave., I got out and promptly closed the car door on my leg.  I managed to gash out a chunk of my shin, but I limped across the street anyway, where the tofu Tom kha gai soup distracted me enough to put off the pain.

Later that evening, at my parents' house for dinner, I asked Judah to get me a band-aid (the first one having lost its stickiness since I kept checking on the cut).  He marched back proudly from the kitchen with the box of Toy Story band-aids, eager to help.  Not surprisingly, he asked if he could have one, too.  I told him to save them for when he actually needed one, otherwise there wouldn't be any left for a real cut.  His response threw me for a loop.

(disgruntled) "Aw, man.  Not fair.  I liked it when you were bald.  We had the matching pirate scarves."

I'm sorry, what now?  When I was bald, you say?  You (ahem) LIKED this??

And it's here where I pause for the proverbial pat on the back.  Apparently this kid had no freaking clue what was going on when I was wearing pirate scarves.  And he's no worse for the wear, if he's longing for the days when we wore them together.

I am continually amazed at the ability of this child to have carried me (us, really) through such an intense test of wills, and come out the other side a bright, happy, curious and compassionate little boy.  Can't credit our parenting skills entirely, I suppose genes and luck have something to do with it also.  We got really really really really lucky.

To whomever is responsible for this match-up, I give thanks to you.