Maia’s supposed to be napping. Instead, she fingers at the bandage on her right hand. Unfettered now, she hovers—just barely—above her crib mattress… too curious to sleep. Rag doll limptitude now suffused by the clear liquid hospital “blood” of medicine. A chuckle escapes from behind the paleness, and her crusted mouth breaks into a grin. Our little girl is back.
Ornery, perky peaks from under a sea of bluewhitegreenyellow blankets… she stalls her nap. “Mommy! Daddy!” she blurts out persuasively. Persuasive, for what she really communicates is, “I’m so cute! Let’s play!” “Mommy will be right back”, I reply…just as convincingly. “Lay down, its time to sleep.” Almost as abruptly as she picked herself up from the crib, she throws herself down. Her sleep needs now wrapped up in one bold mixture of disorder, deprivation and rejuvenation, restful slumber refuses to overstay its welcome (though she is one visitor we would like to do so).
She fingers her bandage again.
Soon she’ll point at that hand to proudly proclaim, “Boo-boo.” And it won’t be long till she’s fingering at her favorite bible again—looking for Jesus’ “boo-boos”. Then, finding them she’ll proudly point and proclaim, “boo-boos!” And, upon further prodding, she’ll kiss Jesus’ boo-boos and say, “dhank-do” (which—translated—means, “Thank you”).
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