Loss for words

Me: Our son has Ezcema. It looks worse than it is. Little things can cause a flare...stress, climate change, an exposure to his allergies.

Another: Allergies?

Me: Yep. Allergies.

Another: What is he allergic to?

Me: Egg whites, peanuts, and tree pollen, to name a few.

Another: Poor thing. I couldn't imagine.

Me: It's not that bad. It could be so much worse (polite smile).

This is usually how the conversation goes at the doctor's office...the swimming pool...his sister's dance class...or any other setting where parents and children see his skin look like this. I can't say I blame them for staring, nor do I mean any harm with this blog post. Truth is, I would look on with concern too. I felt the same sympathy for our son when we learned of his condition...and again with each new allergy discovery.

And when we learned of his speech delay, again, I had more sympathetic thoughts. Poor kid.

Other children his age are speaking many words and are putting them together, where he is still practicing his sounds...Mooo....Oooohhh!

"Good job, Bubba!" I say, and then get lost in the thought of how handsome he is. I smile.

Tonight, following his bath, he went over to his dresser and grabbed the red and white tube of cream from the basket, handing it to me. "Cortisone. It's one of those days, huh, bud?" I asked. He returned my smile.

Despite his lack of language, he communicates better than most adults I know, and is always straight to the point. God. love. him.

Every day I learn something new from our children. And recently, our little Con man has been teaching me that no matter what the circumstance, you just need to find a reason to smile.

Really smile.

Note to your future self, Bud: This is really how you smiled at age 2.