Don't want to!

"Okay, little man, be careful." Coldham Fintan Noose III warned his offspring, when they arrived at the playground and sent him off with a hug and a playful smack to Solomon Fintan's rump. Sol, as Solomon Fintan was nick named, giggled. He toddled with high speed towards the slide, his favorite, and of course didn't pay any heed to his father's order. He was running too fast and fell. Even though Coldham Fintan's heart stopped, he waited a few seconds to gorge how bad it was. Fin, as Sol's father was called, had some experience. Earlier he had rushed to his son's aid, no matter if Sol cried or not. Sometimes Sol had started to cry only when he saw Fin's reaction, so Fin learned to take a step back before doing anything. Since Sol started to howl nearly immediately, Fin knew it was more serious. With a few steps he was beside his son, picked him up and embraced him. "Now, now, baby, I'm here. Everything's good." Fin gave Sol a kiss on the forehead and stroked the boy's blond hair. When Sol had calmed down, Fin asked: "Where does it hurt?" Sol indicated his knees and hands. He still sniffled. Sol had scraped his hands, but they didn't bleed. Fin kissed them better. Sol hadn't been so fortunate with his knees. Both were bleeding. At least the long pants Sol had been wearing had kept out the dirt. Fin still thought it was better to clean the wounds. "Darling, we have to go home, because we need to make sure you won't get sick." "Don't want to!" Sol protested. "I understand, sweetie, but if we don't take care of your abrasions now, you won't be able to play later on for a longer time." Sol, who was just shy of three, looked puzzled. "Daddy, what's an abr... abra...?"Sol stopped, when he couldn't repeat the word. "An abrasion is a graze, like what you have on your hands and knees." Sol stared intently at his hands. Fin was glad Sol had forgotten he didn't want to go home. Fin carried the little boy, who looked like a miniature version of him, back to the apartment.
At the bathroom Fin gently removed Sol's pants. He sat Sol onto the closed lid of the toilet and turned his attention to find a clean, soft cloth, antibacterial ointment and bandages. He made the cloth wet, soaped it and warned his son it might hurt a bit, when they washed out the wounds. "No, don't want to!" Sol exclaimed. Fin understood Sol. "Look, Sol, if we don't clean the grazes, your knees and hands are going to get infected and that is going to hurt a lot more. Trust me!" "Why?" Sol had his arms crossed in front of him, his face set in scowl. Fin stayed patient, even though Sol was trying. Fin believed Sol trusted him and wanted an explanation why the wounds could get infected. Just to be on the save side he asked. Sol confirmed Fin's believe. "Okay.  There are the bad guys called germs. They love injuries and enter wounds. On the other side your body has good guys, the white blood cells. Their job is to fight germs. If there are too many bad guys, the good guys get overwhelmed and your wound hurts more than usual, is red, swollen and contains a yellow or greenish liquid. That's pus. So do we want to help the good guys, by getting rid of most of the germs?" Sol reluctantly nodded. "Okay, honey, let's start with your hands."  With some trepidation Sol stretched out his hands. He relaxed visible, when the cleaning process only burned slightly. Fin was glad his ploy had worked. Washing out the other wounds was going to hurt more. To reassure Sol Fin had begun with the hands. He padded the grazes dry and applied a thin layer of ointment, which also contained a local anesthetic, and stuck on hypoallergenic plasters, printed with dinosaurs. Seeing the figures dressed up as doctor and nurse, Fin thought about how to make the next part easier for Sol. "Why don't we grab Grisu?" "Si, grazie mille." Sol replied in Italian. He was happy to escape the treatment for a while. Grisu was a stuffed toy dragon and a present from Sol's godfather, who originated from Naples, Italy.
Together they went to Sol's room, where Grisu was waiting on Sol's bed. They took him back to the bathroom, where Sol sat again on the toilet. Fin made the same preparations with two different cloths for the rest of Sol's injuries. "Hold on tightly to Grisu." Fin advised, then grabbed Sol's left leg and was trying to be as soft as possible. It was really painful, though, and if it hadn't been for Fin's tight grip Sol would have run away. Sol's eyes filled with tears, and he was screaming. It broke Fin's heart, but he knew he had to go on. "Don't worry, darling, we're nearly done." He moved swiftly to the other knee. When he was satisfied the wounds were clean and dry, he used the ointment and sealed the scrapes with the plaster. Sol was crying freely now and clutched Grisu. "Done!" Fin exclaimed cheerful. He hugged Sol. "Daddy, it hurts." "I know, sweetie. You're as good as new soon." Fin suddenly remembered what his grandfather had told him, when he was small. It made him smile and parted with the wisdom. "Always when I hurt myself, my Grandpa Solomon told me everything would be healed by the time I was married. And you know what? He was right." "Really?" Sol's attention was diverted from the pain, and Fin entertained his son with his own adventures until Sol felt better and ready for the playground.

©2012