One of the membership requirements for being a three year old is that you acquire every single random bacterium/virus/paramecium that happens to be floating by on a dust speck(I blame Horton. A second requirement for membership into this exclusive club is that you perform daring feats which scare the bejeebus out of your mother and leave you with various scrapes, bumps, cuts, and bruises.
My son excels at both of these skills, but he's exceptional at acquiring minor injuries. If there were a contest to see who could accumulate the most bruises and scrapes, he would win. If it's a just a small scrape or bump, Zane plays up the drama and demands that we kiss the site, then goes merrily, a song in his heart, to leap off the very next tall structure he sees.
A more severe injury requires more attention, of course. Zane screams his head off when he is in pain, just like most every other person on the planet. We pick him up, exam him carefully, and hold him. Zane will then ask for one thing: an ice pack. I suppose that he picked up this love of the magical ice pack at daycare, and that's just fine. No matter what sort of pain Zane has, give him an ice pack. No particular ice pack is required, just AN ice pack. You could put a couple of cubes in a ziploc sandwich bag and that's an ice pack to Zane. He carefully holds it to the injury for a second or two, and he's 'cured'. He will hand the ice pack back to you and take off.
If I have one of my migraines, Zane will tell me that I need an ice pack. Eyes bothering you? Ice pack. Corns? Ice pack. Loss of kidney function? Ice pack. Ice is the ultimate cure for what ails you, as far as Zane is concerned.
I am sure that he's bound for medical school.
Apparently, he's on to something. That ice pack thing works for him. Love it! They are amazingly little resilient things these boys. So much energy, drama and back to boundless energy again. If only we could keep up...
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