September 15, 2006 - 5:05 AM.

'Cott, O.K.

Our little boy understands, and is compassionate, and can *talk* about it.

Our friend Scott has fallen in love with a woman from whom, for various distressing reasons, he now has to extricate himself. It has been a short but incredibly tumultuous nine weeks, plus four of his family members suddenly are hospitalized and/or cancerized, plus loss of daycare and illness of his child's mother. Oy vey. So when he offered J. his spare comedy ticket yesterday, for a date spanning the bedtime when the Punim really really needs Daddy home, we decided to have J. go as an act of friendship and normalcy, and to suck it up as a family. And yes, I also had a migraine, Punie is teething hard, and J. had had to visit the ophthalmologist for the second time in two days for frightening RA-related eye issues, so taking a comedy ticket really was sucking it up as a family.

So he explains it a little to the Punim during a baby/daddy game of Unlock Daddy Cah; we have some dinner together, and J. goes. (Not without tears when he thought Scott might come in, and an attempt to forbid the whole thing - "'Cott may not Daddy hewp!") Babe and I play for a little while, during which he wants repetitions of where Daddy is, what He's doing, and when He'll be back - Daddy is helping Scott; Scott feels bad so Daddy is helping Scott feel better; Daddy will still be with Scott at bedtime, but Daddy loves Punie and he'll come back tonight and sleep here all night. "No Daddy wohk. Daddy may not wohk." Daddy is being a good friend helping Scott, and we're doing our part to help by letting Daddy go this one special time. "Daddy O.K.?" Yes, Daddy's OK. "'Cott O.K.?" Scott will be OK.

So we get into the bath (some tears and resistance, as Daddy always undresses him while I run the bath); we discuss the situation some more over some extra bubbles in the tub. We dry off with Daddy's towel. We put on jammies - also Daddy's domain - but it's a little bit all right because Daddy has laid out the favorite jammies, the purple ones. We pick an episode of Blue's Clues to wind down with, with a reminder that he can have milk (aka go to bed) anytime he wants. We snuggle up together in the big chair, where he usually sits with Daddy. After a little while, as usual, he says "Miwk," we sit up to begin transfer, and I say, as J. usually does, a few good-nights to places and things babe has interacted with during the day. Just one or two, and then the usual wind-down, "Nigh-night Mommy, and nigh-night Daddy, and nigh-night Punim."

And the baby, not yet two years old, lifts his head from my shoulder, nearly asleep, and says, "Nigh-night, 'Cott. 'Cott, O.K. Daddy hewp." And then *repeats it* once we've lain down on his bed, at the last instant before nursing.

He's so young, and his heart is so big.

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