Lessons learned from the shiniest of shiners

On Friday night we were babysitting our friends' cute lil' kids. There were six boys and one tiny little girl at our house, all having a blast. I was upstairs feeding babies when I heard a horrific crunch/smash/bonk as two heads collided. This sound was followed by loud wails- the real kind- the kind that can only mean someone was genuinely hurt. One wail, the lesser wail, was provided by Ryan who was holding the back of his head. The greater wail was provided by Andrew who ran up the stairs, holding his face. Between his cries of agony, he managed two words, "My eye!"

Gary, who had barely walked in the door, rushed Andrew over to the freezer and got him some ice to put on his eye. I sat on the stairs with Ryan, trying to calm him down. We all watched as Andrew's eye went from red to purple and puffy, after which Ryan stopped crying and said, "I'm not very hurt."

We took a picture because, as I recall, we were all amazed by how huge his eye was. I just couldn't believe it!!

Still growing. Gary took this picture right before Andrew went to bed. I looked at the picture and thought it just couldn't get any worse, until. . .

. . .the next morning! "Yo, Adrian. We did it." Or, if you prefer, "Sanctuary!" Yes, little Andrew looked very Rocky/Quasimodoesque. It was so sad!! He just sat around on the couch with his ice. It was super cute when he smiled, though. His whole eye, including eyelashes, would totally disappear into a tiny little line surrounded by huge purpleness.

He went to church on Sunday, like a good boy. It was stake conference, which was broadcast to ten different chapels because they were reorganizing three stakes, so he gratefully sat in the comforting darkness. He was shy when people asked him what happened to his eye, but it was mostly grown-ups who thought he looked so awesome and taught him to say things like, "You should see the other guy," and other such tough-guy phrases. He usually ducked behind me, while still trying to be polite to the well-meaning advice-givers.

Well, he looked on the mirror on Sunday night and declared he wasn't going to school the next day. One side of me wanted to say, "Oh, you poor baby! Of course you can stay home so no one can tease you or make you feel bad or hurt your feelings." That side almost won. Then, the other side of me thought, "If he doesn't go to school, he'll think it's worse than it really is. He'll become fearful and insecure and won't learn how to deal with tough situations. He needs to go so he can be strong and confident. He'll also learn compassion and be able to empathize with people who have to deal with similar circumstances."

Monday morning was rough, but he agreed to go to school. The swelling had gone down a lot, but the bruising was crazy! I told him the story about Joseph Smith who, the day after he was tarred and feathered and beaten up and had two of the hugest black eyes ever and a chipped tooth, went and stood in front of the whole church and taught all the people. I didn't know if the story would really help him, but I saw a flicker in his eyes (normal and black) that told me it helped him. Andrew said a prayer and off he went.

I surprised him and met him at lunch time. I packed a sack lunch and actually got butterflies as I walked alone to the cafeteria to eat lunch with a bunch of first-graders. What if they didn't like me?? You can see why he had to go to school- so he could be braver than his mom! I was so proud of him! He was laughing with his friends and they all thought he looked so tough and cool.

Today, he happily went to school without a word about his eye. It looks so much better, but I wonder if I had kept him home if he would still be self-conscious about it and worried about what people might say. I am so proud of my brave, tough, sweet boy. He teaches me so much! He truly is a shiner!!