Touching Touching

A couple of weeks ago I burned my forearm just above the wrist when pulling a pan of muffins out of the oven. While it normally would have healed on its own just fine, the burn opened during one of my post-bath struggles trying to get Juliette back into a diaper and clothes.

I didn’t bother covering the now-open burn with a bandage because I was hoping it would just dry out and heal as normal. But this time it decided to get infected, and within a few days it had started to get red and inflamed. A day later it was redder and pain was starting to shoot up my forearm… uh oh. So I slathered it in antibiotic ointment and covered it with a band-aid.

This went on for over a week until 2 days ago when I ran out of band-aids during my trip away. The burn had mostly closed up and is now almost gone except for the red mark and small scab that remains.

Why is all this important? Because last night, after the nightly ritual of wrestling Juliette back into a diaper and her pyjamas we went back to the living room and were playing together.

As part of her pre-sleep ritual we read books, so I was sitting on the floor reading a book with her. My sleeves were still rolled up from her bathtime so the burn was clearly visible.

After flipping a page in the book she suddenly noticed the red scar on my arm. She reached out and gently ran her finger over the scab and red area, then she looked up at me. She appeared to search my eyes for something, then gave me a sympathetic look. She carefully patted my arm a couple of times just next to the scar as if to say “that’s alright Daddy, it will get better.” And we continued reading.

I almost broke into tears.