falling down

A few days ago, I took the bus to some friends with lots of children and three adults.  The children love the bus–I suspect it’s because they can move, they don’t have to be strapped in–and we did fine.  Then we had a half mile walk on a dirt road and my 4-year-old grandson, Noah, fell hard on the ground.  He scraped himself and had a mouthful of dirt and pebbles.  It didn’t make sense to stop to give him a chance to unload the feelings so I carried him while encouraging him to keep crying, reminding him that the tears will help his body heal fast.  He probably cried for 15 minutes, much longer than most of us allow our children to do, but at the end of it, he was fine, playful and relaxed.

Another thing about it:  while he cried he remembered some other falls he’d had and cried about those too.  It was a good way to clean up a lot of old physical hurts.


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