The morning after Abraham’s accident, the morning after the night I had barely slept at all, I woke up a little worried that it was going to be a difficult day. I figured Abraham in his pain and agony would want me to hold him, cuddle him, comfort nurse him, and that I would have to suspend my next 24 hours or so to just keep him from whining and crying. I had to carry him out of the bedroom and he was whimpering. I wondered how I would get through even just the morning. When we entered the dining room we were met by last night’s set up for Art Friday; I had arranged all the colors, brushes, palettes, sheets and canvases the night before – before the accident – and had not had a chance to clean it up. What a mess! When Abraham saw it his face broke out into a huge smile – it was like the sun came out after a big storm – and he motioned towards his high chair, apparently having forgotten all about his broken arm, happily exclaiming the words “Aimeeh. PAINTING! Mama?! Aimeeh PAINTING! Yeah!”
He stayed in that chair for almost two hours, paintbrush in hand. He looked a little awkward at first, trying to figure out how to do everything with one arm disabled, but he soon got it. Somewhere in between a picture of a dog and daddy I fed him some yogurt, and managed to drink my tea. Lots and lots of it.
I should have figured. There are two things in particular that Abraham loves to do. Take a bath and paint, and the first one is out for the next two weeks. But I was too tired to think ahead like this, and would never have thought to set up the painting project that morning. What a stroke of luck!