I was washing the dishes after supper when RK came to me crying. His right hand was holding his left one over his crotch. “Mommy, I got hurt! Hoo hoo hoo.” My heart started to race. What did he do now? I thought that he hurt his crotch. No. He closed the door upstairs when his left hand was still there. I coaxed him to stop crying and told him that it would feel better in a little bit.
Later, we went upstairs to start reading his books. Then I remembered that I have to fix the keyboard holder of the desk in their bedroom. The thing wouldn’t go in. I just decided to take it out since they don’t use it anymore. We got rid of the old slow computer that once was there.
I went under the table and took out the screws. I asked RK, who was already feeling better, to get me a bag where I can put the screws. Always the eager helper that he was, he went willingly downstairs to get a bag, came back up, gave it to me under the desk and then OUCH. He got up while he was still under the protruded keyboard holder. He wailed again. He got a big scratch on his back. I cajoled him once more. “I’m sorry that you got hurt,” I told him. “It’s not your fault mommy. It was that thing,” he said.
A couple of months ago while I was working and RK was drawing on the floor beside me, a few papers fell down from my desk. RK said, “Oh, I’m sorry, Mommy.” “That’s okay, it’s not your fault, RK,” I replied. I’m amazed at how my kids pick up the little things that I say and do -both good and bad ones.