Popsicles are no consolation

Today, my 4 year old little boy had his tonsils and adenoids removed in an amazingly short out-patient procedure. We talked it up so he wouldn't be afraid, emphasizing the ice cream and pudding he would eat after his "throat was fixed".  I'd have to say he thinks ice cream is no consolation 6 hours after the fixing.  I think he's rather have the tonsils.

I hate to see him on the verge of tears, pointing at his throat as if asking me to fix it. If I could, he'd already be out of bed, wrestling with his sister.   As hard as it is, I remind myself that we are rarely, if ever, the sickest in the room, never the one with the most obstacles to overcome. I take comfort in that, and in the fact he is happy and healthy on a normal day. 

Sometimes we hit a bump in an otherwise calm and lifeless road, we take a breath, hold on, and look back giving thanks that the bump wasn't bigger. Our bump has really only been an ant hill so far. And I am grateful.


-- Post From My iPhone