Last week when we were at my parent’s house, my position in Sean’s universe slipped significantly. Anything Mommy could do, Grandma could do better.
I had heretofore been the chief boo boo kisser. I’m skilled in this particular area of medicine. I’m experienced, I’ve studied it, I’ve perfected it.
So when he bumped his knee and started crying, I reflexively called to him, “Come here Sweetie, Mommy will kiss it.” He stopped crying and looked at me. And then he looked at my mother and then back at me. “No thank you,” he said not able to look me in the eye, “Gammaw kiss it.”
“Um, well, okay,” I said trying not to sound hurt. “Grandma’s kisses are good too, I guess. I’ve got kisses over here too you know, if like, it doesn’t work out or whatever….”
He didn’t hear me saying that my kisses come with an extended warranty. He was already wrapped up in Gammaw’s arms. And it’s true. Gammaw’s kisses are superior. She can make a boo boo better no matter what’s hurting or how old you are. I know.