My kids at the moment are right into scootering. We have a patch of concrete out the front of our house, and at the moment it is like a four-laned highway, with four kids zipping up and down, racing, playing , and generally having fun.
We as adults know that concrete and fun, often results in the inevitable stubbed toe and it was one such incident that provided a special moment between my son and I.
The stubbed toe was pretty gruesome, with flapping skin, and really dirty feet. The hubby had just tied a handi-towel around it, and thought it’ll be right. When the tears kept flowing, I decided to have a look, and my son and I made our way to the bathroom for some warm water, antiseptic, plasters and savlon cream. I took five minutes and concentrated solely on listening to my son, and agreeing with him about how painful it was, and how blood didn’t look very nice, while also reassuring him that the warm water wouldn’t hurt and that a plaster might be a good idea.
A couple of minutes in we were both grinning at each other, while we were closed off from the rest of the world, calmly dealing to the bloody toe. It was a special moment. By being present, and talking calmly together we took the whole drama and stress out of the situation. Taking the time mattered to him, and by the end, I realised that taking the time mattered to me too.