Mommy's Kisses vs. Daddy's

We've had a big weekend.

Yesterday we went to one of our beautiful state parks: on Lake Marion in Santee. The boys had been there several times before; I hadn't. So they took me in our canoe along the shoreline from the boat ramp, to the isolated place they had named "Little Frog Beach," owing to the fact that there had been scores of little tiny frogs there the last time they'd been there. I re-named it "Stinky Beach," because while I saw no tiny frogs, I did see quite a few fish skeletons, and I did smell quite a fish smell.

However, I also got to watch my son splash in the water and quite enjoy himself, so it was worth it.

You can imagine that after such a day in the sun, no one was interested in cooking that evening after we got home. We decided to go get a pizza instead. So while we were at the restaurant, "Jed" bumped his elbow on the table. It hurt. He started to whimper.

"Let mommy kiss it," I offered.

So he showed me the spot, and I kissed it. At least I thought I did. He said

"No, mommy. Right here."
And he pointed to a new spot.

At that, he frowned. It was obvious he was still hurting.

"I guess mommy's kisses just don't really work anymore," I said to him, sadly. I was secretly lamenting the fact that my son is growing up as he opened his mouth again.

"Well, sometimes they don't," he said.

At that, my husband said, "Let Daddy try."

So "Jed" offered his elbow. My husband kissed it.

"Jed" thought for a second, looking at his elbow.

"OK," he said, with a lift in his voice, "Daddy's kisses kinda make it worse!"

CHALK ONE UP FOR MOMMY.