Like most children we went to Mom when we were hurt. It seemed like Mommy could make it better more than anyone else.
There were seven of us. It seemed like there was always one with a scrape or a small cut.
And there were bigger wounds that were not big enough for a doctor to look at. A lot of those were open wounds. She cleaned them up and calmed us down.
Then it was Daddy's turn. For some strange reason he loved making bandages. So out came the gauze and adhesive tape.
When he was through a scrape to the elbow would look like your full arm was in a cast. We loved it. We got a lot of attention.
So Mom fixed the wounds. Daddy decorated them.
Your father fancied himself very much a doctor, and your mother, by some quiet agreement, became the nurse.
ReplyDeleteMy parents made a good team.
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