Fantabulation

In the bathtub, as The Nipper splashed around with me, he looked at my thumb, which sported an angry red hangnail.

“Mama!” he gasped. “What’s that?”

“Ah, it’s an ouch I have.”

“I know how to fix that!” He exclaimed.

“Do you?”

“I do.”

“Are you going to put a kiss on it to make it better?” I asked, holding out my thumb.

“Well,” he hemmed and hawed, “I *could*. But I know a better way.”

“You’re not going to advocate the chopping off of thumbs, are you?”

“No, silly,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m going to fantabulate it.”

“Ah.” I said. “I see. Um. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of fantabulation.”

“Oh, well, I will explain it to you.” Keep in mind, The Nipper is four. “First, I will place a kiss on your ouch. It will travel forward, into the future, and then when the ouch catches up with it, it will stop hurting. That is how fantabulation works.”

“I see. Well, let’s try it out!”

Damned if that fantabulation didn’t make my *entire hangnail* go away.

The next night, I asked him how his day went. We always try to do a ‘what was the worst part/what was the best part of your day’ discussion before bed. He told me that the worst part of his day was when he’d fallen down at hockey (again) and smacked his face (again) on the armrest of a seat (again).

“Well. Now that I know about Fantabulation,” I said, “I can make it better, right?”

“Oh, well, you know, this is different. Because this ouch is *much* worse. You’ll have to Fantabulate four times, because by the time the first kiss travels into the future, the last kiss will have caught up and made the ouch go away sooner.”

“I see. Do you think that if I Fantabulate four times right now, that your ouch will be better by morning?”

He thought about that for a while. In fact, he was very deep in thought over that for a while. Then he pointed his little finger in the air and pontificated. “Yes. I believe this kind of Super Fantabulation will work.”

So, I gave him four kisses on his ouch, and a couple of extra ones for good measure. “Good night,” I said. “Sweet dreams. I love you. See you in the morning.”

“Mama?” he asked. “Don’t you want to know about the best part of my day?”

“Oh goodness. Of course I do!”

“Well, the best part of my day,” he said, staring at me with smiles in his big brown eyes with the impossibly long lashes, “was when you came home just now and tucked me in. I love you, Mama.”

cenobyte
cenobyte is a writer, editor, blogger, and super genius from Saskatchewan, Canada.

7 Comments

  1. I really hope there is some mother’s chest of marvellous memories where you are keeping all these precious things, in addtion to sharing them with us in the ghostly transient bloggosphere.WV = outachyl — get it? Out a child…

i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.

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