We've been talking with her a lot lately about big problems vs. little problems. Spilled milk? Little problem. Broken crayon? Little problem. Ran into street without looking for cars? BIG problem. Miles stole your toy? Feels like a big problem, but really it's a little problem.
So, she was sitting on my lap crying and holding the ice pack on her head ('cause she wanted to do it herself) and she asked, "Mommy is this a big problem?"
I wasn't sure how to respond, so I asked her what she thought. She decided, "it's a medium size problem" because it hurt a lot, but she didn't need to go to the doctor and get stitches.
Thankfully, by school picture time, her bruise was barely noticeable. Not that Kris and I really cared about a blemish on her school photos....in fact, we thought it would only make them more memorable. But B was concerned, and so we were concerned. And so we all gave a collective sigh of relief that she healed so quickly.
Fast forward a week. Miles tips his chair over at dinnertime in one of those slow-motion catastrophes where I'm watching it happen but can't quite leap to his rescue fast enough. He splits his chin open, bites his tongue, and it's a bloody mess. Aware that the kids are looking to me for cues on how to react, I calmly call Kris at work and ask him to rush home so that I can take Miles to urgent care.
Still, B saw the blood, heard Miles crying and yelled "It's a big problem! It's a big problem!" I tried to assure her we can take care of it. "Mommy and Daddy know how to handle all sorts of problems," I told her.
Thankfully, they were able to glue Miles' laceration closed, so it was relatively pain-free. In fact, I'm pretty sure he thought it was a fun outing alone with Mama. And once B saw Miles all cleaned up, smiling, and holding a bouquet of stickers the nurses gave him, she felt much better too.
A few days later, the kids and I were out for a walk and Bronwynn ran her fingers across her forehead and asked, "What happened to my bump?"
"It went away," I said.
"Where did it go? Does somebody else have it now?"
"No, honey. You didn't give it to anyone else. It's just gone. It healed." I replied, and we continued walking silently for a few moments while she pondered the concept of "healed."
"Mommy, I think my bump went up into the sky into the clouds and became rain," she said. "And soon, Miles' cut will go up into the clouds too."
Sounds like a perfect explanation for healing to me.