Trust me, if I had been feeling anywhere close to the way he LOOKS, I would have been complaining a whole lot. The whole left side of his top lip droops over the bottom lip. He looks like he has half of a duck lip. He has to tilt his head waaaaaay back, just to put food in, otherwise it just falls out of his mouth. Sometimes he can't be bothered, and he gets careless, like today when he was eating cereal and milk was dribbling out of his mouth, all around his chin, and he was too sleepy to care.
But really, the only time he seems to think about his injury is when I pull him aside and gritch about when am I going to get my little boy's face back?
He couldn't joke about it at first. But tonight while we were getting ready for bed, we were discussing the races that Chinua was setting for them, right before the dog bite. He was telling the kids, "two times around the park, on one foot," or something like that. Leafy always trailed in last, proudly. Kid A said, "We were just getting too tired of races, and we couldn't think of anything," and then I got silly and I said, "But last was the 'Let's see who can get bitten by a dog first' race." And Kid A smiled at the ceiling.
"And I won," he said, laughing.
"Well, I'm going to win next time," I said. And all the kids sat up and put out their hands to stop me. They were laughing too, but kinda serious, at the same time.
"You can't ever, Mama!" YaYa said.
"Everyone wants to lose at that race," Kid A informed me.
"Yeah," Leafy said. "Nobody ever wants to win."
It was a long night tonight, putting the kids to bed. It's never been my favorite part. My Superstar Husband really hurt his back recently, and so I've been covering the part of the day when I'm not at the top of my game. I've been trying to slow it down, not rush it. Not dive into a bag of chocolates and a book, only to be interrupted by bathroom checkers and water demands.
On Friday we had this beautiful Shabbat dinner with the Jewish friends that we are staying with. My favorite part of the Shabbat night is the time when the fathers bless their children. It's a beautiful thing, to see the dads putting their hands on their childrens' heads and giving them words of blessing.
I'm trying to bring words of blessing into bedtime. "God, bless my boy with love and peace. Bless my daughter with courage. Show her that you made her because you wanted a friend just like her..." And it's working. I think that it may have been the best part of my day today.