I have a blister on the back of my heel, and it hurts like mad. I ran without socks the other day because, well, I was too lazy to go upstairs and get a pair before my run. I know, I know. Too lazy to go get socks. I'm ashamed to say it but, yes. I was. This resulted in a massive, and extremely painful blister. The kind so big that when I bend my foot the wrong way, what little healing had taken place, is no more.
Adelyn noticed the blister when I was changing Tobin's diaper today. "Awww, poor baby. You have a boo-boo? Here, let me kiss you, and make you feel better." That was just the beginning. All day long today, any chance she got to doctor me, she took. At one point, I was laying on the floor playing with Tobin. She had been playing quietly with some dolls, and beads, and other pretty things, when she ran over to me. She brought her beads. Placing the beads on my blister, she exclaimed, "here, this will make it feel better." Of course, it didn't. It felt like pieces of gravel being pushed into my open wound. But, very gently, I said, "oh, sweetie, thank you so much, but that hurts."
The day went on, and so did her attempts to doctor me and my blister. She placed baby doll clothes on top of it. More beads. A pretend band-aid from her doctor kit. I mean, how do you explain to a two-year old that touching an open wound is #1-gross, and #2-painful. You can't. Especially when she was trying so very hard to take good care of me. How could I discourage that? So, whenever she touched my blister, I would say, "oh, thank you Dr. Addy! Let's go wash your hands!"
Thankful for my caring girl.
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