He’s Brave Like That

My youngest son tends to be my little stoic. He sits back (usually with his fingers in his mouth... and sometimes in his nose) and takes in the world. He’s the strong, silent type.

As a baby, we would often wonder what he was thinking. He just looked so pensive all the time, staring up at us with those wise eyes of his. These days he’s talking of course, but sometimes we still wonder what he’s thinking. Because, like his dad, sometimes it takes a bit of coaxing to get answers out of him. However, like his dad, the answers are usually worth the work.

Like the other day. He slipped and fell. From where I was sitting it looked like a pretty nasty tumble, so I rushed over, scooped him up and began examining him for signs of injury.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“It’s no big deal,” he replied. “It’s just pain.”

He takes a similar view when it comes to hard knocks. After I made one of his brothers apologize to him for running into him and knocking him down, he matter-of-factly informed me, “It’s okay because I didn’t even cry.”