"Mommy, stay close. I might be scared," the youngest says, huddling under a blanket, peeking out at his favorite show, Mystery Hunters.
"What? You can't be scared; you're eating waffles! Nothing ever bad happens when someone's eating waffles. They're happy! They're cheery! They're like.. like..."
"Sunshine on a plate!" the youngest crows.
And it's true. They are. That's why you rarely see waffles in horror movies.
This week we had our own, in-home horror movie of sorts, complete with terrifying trip to the emergency room at Brenner. Injuries I can handle - you know what you're dealing with. Not knowing what's suddenly and horribly wrong is a thousand times worse.
And yet at a certain point, I knew this movie would have a happy ending, because when the doctor introduced herself, she said, "I'm Dr. Kielbasa," and a name like Dr. Kielbasa to someone like me is like a plate of waffles -- an indication that nothing bad is going to happen. I took it as a wink from God almost.
And the youngest is bouncing back exactly the way the exceedingly kind and brilliantly named doctor told us he would with the medications she ordered, and in fact has bounced out of the sickbed and back to school, though not yet for a whole day.
But I'm still waiting to bounce back fully, because my children, my babies, are my plated sunshines, and while they both may still shine brightly, that scared the living daylights out of me.