We have two daughters. One who has been to CHEO six or seven times and another who has been nonce, except when she’s needed to accompany us for her sisters visit. Leah, who is three and the oldest, is the one who has never been.
Generally I explain this away as pure luck but sometimes I just think she knows how to manage injury and illness better than most humans. Her main armor versus injury, of course, is kisses from parents. Often it doesn’t even matter if we’re kissing the offended limb, as long as a kiss gets planted.
“Daddy, I broke my leg. I need to go to the hospital.”
“Will a kiss work?”
“Which leg is broken?”
“I not ’member’.”
“Ok, I’ll just pick one,” I’ll say and then kiss a leg in hopes it does something.
“Daddy it’s not broken any more.”
This works, I kid you not, 100 per cent of the time. That percentage is high enough that I’ve now started considering asking the nearest adult for a kiss every time I’m stricken by the injury bug.
“Can you please kiss my foot? I think I stepped on a rock.”
“Mike, do you need to see the campus medic?”
“Just a kiss please, it’ll make everything feel better.”
“I’m your boss.”
“Good point. Maybe just kiss on top of the sock then.”
While this has worked very well so far, the true test will come the first time she gets proper injured. I’m a little worried that Leah will try and shrug off medical attention in hopes she’ll get a kiss. Having been to CHEO plenty of times I know they’re staff is friendly. But I don’t know that they’ll ignore open wounds and broken bones even if a child is crying for kisses.
But, with my kids, stranger things have happened and I wouldn’t be all that surprised if kisses cured all that ails her.
The safest plan? Hope nothing happens to test the magic kisses.