This morning I had to take Sean for another round of blood work for the pediatric nephrologist. Not because he thinks anything is wrong, but because… I don’t really know why. He just said to do it and we said okay because occasionally we are compliant people. I’m sure he has his reasons.
I smeared the lidocayne cream on Sean’s arm, which numbs the skin, and then covered it with the plastic bandage. We call it the magic cream. Sean patted his arm reassuringly. “Now we just let the magic soak in,” he said, sounding too grown up.
As we drove to the lab, he sat quietly in the back seat and looked out the window.
“Everything okay?” I asked him.
‘Yup,” he said.
“Whatcha’ thinking about?” I asked him, concerned that he might be more worried about the blood draw than he was letting on.
“I was just thinking about you,” he said enthusiastically.
“Oh really?” I asked, delighted. “What were you thinking?”
“I was just thinking that you are a really nice lady.”
I was caught off guard. I laughed at the same time that tears sprung to my eyes. It was just so sweet and so funny, so little boy.
“Well, I think you are a really nice boy,” I said.
“Okay. Thanks,” he said.
The blood draw was a non-event. He sat in the chair and didn’t flinch or fuss. The nurses made all over him and told him how brave he was and what a big boy he was. “Thank you,” he said.
We stopped by Wal-Mart on the way home because I needed milk. I let him pick out a toy. Because afterall, I am a nice lady.