My son ran ferociously. Elbows bent, fists clenched, feet flying, and Batman cape flapping. Just inches from catching up to his big sister, a crack in the uneven sidewalk knocked him to the ground.
His jeans tore and his breath left him until his scream found voice and filled the air.
My knees were on the ground a second after his fall. He hoisted his toddler-sized body into my lap and open arms. Then, he wailed a solitary demand:
“Feel me better! Please, please feel me better, right now!”
I had nothing in my big ole mom purse to help him. Not a band aid, tube of ointment, or even a tissue.
How can this be? I thought. Of all the times for an epic purse fail, now is not it.
So I gave him all I could give and what he needed most of all in that moment:…
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