Before illness set in, Tucker enjoyed a fun playdate at McDonald's with his favorite cousin, Abby. When we got home from hours and hours of playland fun, I took off his shoes and socks to help him settle in for his nap.
That's when I saw a spot of blood on his sock and a cut on his heel where his shoe had rubbed his foot raw. Poor little guy... poor little foot. It didn't need a band-aid, since it had long since stopped bleeding. It was just a memory, and a vauge one, at that.
And that's how he and I are different:
If my shoe was rubbing my heel, and doggonit, if my shoe was causing me enough pain to draw blood, the whole world would know. I would not keep playing with glee, ignoring the annoying pain, waiting for it to go away. Things would need to stop immediately. I would need a remedy, right now. And I would probably be a little overly dramatic about the whole thing... just maybe. Yep. That's one character trait he didn't get from me.
Just goes to show how much he loves playing with Abby: enough to bleed right through his sock, and never miss a beat.