Thomas tripped, and when he put his hand out to catch himself his palm hit a rock. He walked to me, holding out his hand, crying, and I did what all moms do. I said, “Thomas, come here. Let Mommy kiss it.”
I took his hand in mine and as I drew it to my face, he stiffened his fingers and turned his hand over and pushed his palm over my mouth as if to quiet me.
“Why do you do that, Mommy? You think you have medicine in your mouth?”