My Big Boo-Boo

A reenactment. What parent wouldn’t kiss that finger?

As any parent will attest, there’s genuine power in a kiss. Healing power, that is. A kiss from a parent can cure almost all boo-boos. The tears of seemingly inconsolable children will suddenly dry up with the correct placement of a kiss.

Unless there’s blood, of course. Any blood, no matter how small the scrape, requires a band-aid. That’s the law.

But for your run of the mill, standard boo-boos, the kiss is king.

Bumped your head? It’s better with a kiss. Jammed your hand in a drawer? I’ll kiss that for you and you’re all good.

Hurt your bum?

“I’m a little busy at the moment, sweetie. Go ask your mother,” I said to one of the kids a long time ago when they came off her scooter and landed on their tush. And then I sat chuckling while Tracey puckered up.

Only I had to take back those chuckles because she didn’t kiss their bum. Instead she cupped her hand, put a few kisses in it and then threw those kisses at their bottom from a respectable distance.


And we’ve been using this method ever since, healing those awkward, messy or smelly boo-boos you don’t want to put your face to.

The trick, of course, is to recognize those boo-boos requiring the cupped kiss. Something I am not, even after seven kids, very good at.

I was at Little Athletics with the kids again this week and, so far, the night had produced just the usual kissable boo-boos.

By way of example, we’d just watched Miss10 slamming her way through a series of hurtles and hobbling across the line. This is, effectively, the same approach she, and her brother, take to the high jump – they come in hard and hit the bar like a wrecking ball.

So I was already in the magical healing lips zone when Miss6 came running up to me holding out her pinky and frowning.

Naturally, I leant down and kissed it better.

If anything, at this point, Miss6’s frown became deeper and there was now a sort of ‘eeewwww!’ quality to it.

At first I thought it was me. Was there something fowl on my lips? Well, there was now.

“I just touched bird poo with my finger,” she told me.

I’m seriously considering cup kissing all boo-boos from now on.

Not a reenactment. This is her genuine thrill at having a funny story to tell her friends tomorrow.

🙂 please share 🙂

“Raising a family on little more than laughs.”


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