The lovely nurse came to the house today and pulled those staples outta Bubba-Love. I'm not sure who was more excited, me or him. He's been funny since, touching his head and babbling away in his own language, a mix of French, English, and Bubba. I catch the words "boo-boo" and "head" but that's about all I'm understanding.
His gestures give me more to go by. He's nodding that beautiful noggin, tilting it to the side and patting the spot where the staples were. I think he's telling me he's glad they are out too.
There will be a nice scar there now, that's for sure. I sort of expected him to get some over the course of his life, but seeing him have one when he's only 2 years old is impressive.
I look over my own scars on my hands, knees, chin, elbows, feet and I see the bookmarks of my life. My history played out in funny little bumps all over my body. When I run my hands through my hair, I always stop to touch and feel the scar from my car accident when I was 16. How I've changed since then.
I wonder if Bubba-Love will enjoy reading his history in the same way.
Oh, how he will change since today.