Our story starts with a tired and already sleeping Daddy who, while sick with a cold, still has to wake up at about 5 AM to beat the traffic to work. My sweet Neylan fell asleep earlier in the day and got a lovely nap, so he wasn’t tired until about 9-10 PM. After telling me he was sleepy we went upstairs. Mommy brushed her teeth while Neylan went into the bedroom and climbed onto the bed.
The next thing I heard was “Megan!” and Neylan crying, so I ran to the bedroom to find out what happened.
Because Neylan was sick with a cold a week or so ago, there was a little container of Vicks Vaporub next to the bed. Neylan knew that this “special ointment” helped him feel better at night while he was trying to sleep. Daddy was sound asleep, but coughing and sniffling. Neylan must have felt bad for Daddy, because the cry of my name and the tears from my little boy happened because Neylan was trying to put Vaporub under Daddy’s stuffy red nose. Instead of getting it under Daddy’s nose, he got some IN Daddy’s nose, and Daddy woke up very suddenly knocking the little man off his chest onto the other part of the bed. When Daddy finally woke up enough to realize what was going on, he gave the little one a hug and thanked him for being so caring.
Our second ointment story took place just this morning.
I was in the kitchen getting my breakfast, like every typical morning. My little boy was in the livingroom watching Mickey Mouse Club House… or so I thought.
All of a sudden I started to hear clapping noises, which isn’t abnormal for a toddler, but for mine to be doing that without that type of a show on and for him to not be answering me when I called out to him, meant there is something concerning going on. I walked away from my food and into the living room with my fingers crossed.
There was my child, seated on the couch, covered in Burt’s Bees Baby Ointment.
Rather than getting super angry that it was all over the place, which is very easy for my reactionary self to do, I decided to breathe for about 10 seconds and take in the situation. I realized it looked pretty bad, but it wouldn’t be too horrible to clean. I decided that, while letting Neylan know I wasn’t happy about this situation, getting angry would only ruin what could be an amazing day, and I knew that I’d be laughing about it in years to come, so while I couldn’t laugh now, I wouldn’t ruin our relationship over it.
Most of the mess was on the two blankets that were on top of the couch and on Neylan.
First thing I did was take the container of ointment and throw it away. It would be worth replacing the jar rather than me totally loosing my cool over it. (I firmly believe, that buying another container would be better than me angrily fuming at my child all day, or doing or saying anything that could ruin my relationship with him. I’d rather not say words I can’t take back, if I can consciously avoid it.)
Next, I took Neylan off the couch and told him I was unhappy, to which he replied, “but you are happy!“ I know I looked at him fairly astonished because I’m sure “happy” was nowhere on my face.
“No. I’m not.” I said a bit more firmly.
Upon hearing that he started to cry. I grabbed a wipe and started wiping his arms, legs, belly, and face, telling him that although I wasn’t happy about the mess, I loved him. I asked him why he got into it in the first place, and he replied saying that he had a “strawberry” on his finger.”Strawberry” is his current word to describe blood and scabs. He thinks every “owie” needs ointment and a bandaid at this stage for some reason.
I finished cleaning him up, grabbed the blankets off the couch and put them in the washing machine upstairs, then came back down to clean up the small amount of mess that was left over.
The livingroom still smells like ointment, but I’m calm enough to write about this, so I’d say it’s a pretty good day.
Megan A.K.A. “Mom”