Navigate / search

Stings and Wings

Fisher screams hysterically and runs into the house. It takes a few moments to get clear that a bee stung him on the hand. Daddy finds the tweezers, removes the stinger, assembles a bag of ice, and commences to comfort. Over a crying Fisher’s head, Daddy signals to Cory, concern on her face, that she should pat Fisher and comfort him as well, maybe tell him she’s sorry that a bee stung him, make reassuring sounds.

Cory hesitates.

After a bit more pantomimed encouragement, she pats him in sterile fashion on the shoulder and whispers quickly, “Sorry, Fisher.” Fisher is too wrapped up in his own pain to care…but Daddy frowns. After a few moments of that frown…

C (eyes excited and fixed on Daddy): I know, Fisher! I could draw you a picture. Do you want me to draw you a picture? That will make you feel better, right, Fisher?
F (through tears): Uh huh.
C: What color do you want the paper, Fisher?
F (able to recall his favorite color through sobs): You could draw it with orange paper.

Cory, clearly not the best at physical empathy but apparently a big believer in the healing power of art, gets to work. After what seems far too long, she pops back up to Daddy and Fisher.

C (presenting the attached drawing): Here you go, Fisher.
F (eyeing it): Thank you, Cory. You are so sweet, Cory.
D: What is it, Cory?
C (pointing as she deconstructs): Well, there is Fisher’s hand right there, and then there’s a bee next to it. That bee stung Fisher’s hand, Daddy.
F: Why did that bee do that?
D: It was threatened and scared. It didn’t know better; so, it stung you.
C: It didn’t know, Fisher. It’s like a baby, see. It didn’t know.
F (handing the picture back to Cory and proving that everyone’s a critic): But, where are the wings?
C (hesitating and then taking the picture back): I can draw the wings. You want me to draw the wings?
F (still crying through): Yes, please.

Cory returns with the finished product, to which Fisher responds…

F: Thanks, Cory.
C: Do you feel better now?
F: Uh huh. Now that I can see the wings. A bee has to have wings. Otherwise, how do you know?

A half hour of ice packs, several Daddy hugs, and two more pictures from his sister (a flower in a box that Fisher felt needed more petals and a very geometric fish that Fisher felt needed more fins), and Fisher is back up and running.

Leave a comment

name*

email* (not published)

website