Monday, September 8, 2008


My kids sometimes just amaze me.
The Man is having another surgery this week on his hand. The ring finger is not healing correctly and is causing considerable pain.
Last night, we talked with the boys about it, trying to make them understand that the doctors are going to fix Daddy's hand and that it will be okay, just different.
My egocentric, normally self centered little heathen stepped outside of themselves, crawling into The Man's lap and asking about his hand. They asked if it hurt. They asked if they could touch it. They even held up their chubby little hands and asked if the doctors would fixed their fingers too.
Throughout this ordeal, I have refused to lie to my children about what is occurring. I don't tell them everything and I make the information provided age appropriate, but I am honest about what is happening.
And last night, as I surreptitiously wiped the tears from my eyes, my boys made their mama proud.
I realized they are turning into amazing little people and felt a surge of pride in them.
And then Bug belched and Boo farted, and the Hallmark moment died in a blast of boy gases.

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