One of my chicks is going to have his wisdom teeth pulled today.
I’ll be the one who drives him to the clinic where it will be done and I’ll be the one who pretends to read a book while he is away in a tiny room, blissfully unaware that people are cutting and pulling parts of his mouth away.
I’ll hover over him when he gets out of surgery and knowing him, he’ll be annoyed that I’m there.
“Oh, mom,” he’ll say in that voice he’s used so many times before, “I’m fine.”
I know he’ll be fine.
I know he’ll be fine as I adjust the pillows on the couch in front of the TV so that he can drain downward – a trick that helps with nausea.
I know he’ll be fine as I find a warm wool blanket to tuck around him in order to keep warm reducing stress on his body.
I know he’ll be fine as I get him a milkshake, an offer of coolness to hot and irritated tissue, eaten with a spoon and not a straw, because sucking puts tension on stitches.
I know he’ll be fine as I check in on him every hour on the hour – everything okay?
“I’m fine, mom,” he’ll mumble with a practiced roll of his eyes.
I know, sweetheart, I know. You’re an adult now, but please just let me do my job for you, who will always be baby chick of mine.
Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at Wendy@SimpleThrift.com
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