(Our little folk singer :-)
One of my proudest on-the-spot parent-think moments: a couple of months back, at the park, Clementine was running and tripped and scraped her shin. Not a bad scrape, no blood. She was in that initial wavering moment before deciding whether to cry or not, and I said, "Let's let the wind blow on it," and held her up so the breeze could get it. And we went on the swings with her pants rolled up so the back and forth movement could really let the wind blow on her boo boo. And this just made so much sense to her. She already knew we blow on boo boos, and what blows better than the wind?
So it immediately became her standard line. Any minor hurt, be it a light head bonk or a stubbed toe, no crying. She immediately says, "The wind will blow it."
And we nod and agree that it will, and that is that.
She's like a little sage. She has even told another crying child, gently, "Don't worry. The wind will blow it."
My heart sings. It will.
If only everything could be so simple, so benevolent as the wind blowing on boo boos.
I'm leaving Monday for my book tour, and Clementine knows it. And though she will have her wonderful people, her papa and friends and grandparents and fairy godmother, she is very sad. I think she broke my heart the other night when we were reading bedtime bookies, all three of us, and she starting worrying wherever the mama wasn't on the page. Asking "Where's the mama?" with an edge of panic on every mama-less page. I felt *this big*. How could I do this? Go away for DAYS?
Oh man. If only I had a "wind will blow it" for this one.
How about a pocket mama? A little doll with pink hair she can keep in her pocket?
She'll be fine, I know she will. When I've gone on shorter trips in the past she was completely fine once I was gone, and carried on as her usual sweet self with Jim. But ouch, my heart, my heart. Wind, please blow over here ...