My son is at that age when boo-boos are fascinating. Which is good, because he’s constantly covered in them. At least once a day he comes to me and announces that he has a boo-boo or a “scwatch” that needs kissing, rubbing, or just general consolation. Occasionally, after studying his wound carefully, he will proclaim that he needs a band-aid. If I happen to agree and give him a band-aid, it is guaranteed that within the first 30 seconds of band-aid application, he will have removed said band-aid a minimum of half a dozen times, thus rendering its adhesive useless. He will then come to me in great distress and request a replacement band-aid. Lather, rinse, repeat.
I don’t know why his surprise comes as a surprise to me, though. Every else in his world that gets broken or damaged needs to be fixed externally, and most of the time it’s never quite as good. If he scratches one of his toy racecars, it has a scratch forever. If he breaks the snowplow off the front of his snowplow truck, he has to wait for Mama or Daddy to pop it back on, and even so, it falls off more easily than it used to. If he breaks the boom arm off his toy backhoe, it’s gone for good and the backhoe is now just a tractor. If he cracks a CD, we have to throw it away. But if he’s not careful with his own body, all he has to do is wait and it miraculously heals itself. No wonder he’s astonished. That’s pretty astonishing!
It’s wonderful to see the world through the eyes of a child, and to be reminded of just how astonishing some parts of life are. Like the fact that our bodies can fix themselves. We’re even better than Tonka trucks, Matchbox cars, and Legos, combined. After all, we were made by a much more skilled Toymaker.