Since the management company at the hotel where DaddyMort works changed a few months ago, we no longer have substantial life insurance. To get life insurance through an independent provider, and not through work, you apparently have to have a physical done by a nurse. Today was the day when the nurse stopped by our house. A blood draw was part of the screening. She asked a ridiculous amount of questions, in the slowest speed possible, and completed a few other tests before she finally did the blood draw at the very end.
Devon was napping, but Chloe was right there with us and feeling impatient after we’d been mostly unavailable to her for about an hour. She was asking about DaddyMort’s band-aid right before I got my blood drawn. I asked her if I could have one of her Curious George band-aids, expecting a no. Instead, I got an enthusastic YES! followed by her running/stomping down the hall past her sleeping brother’s room, yelling about how she’d get it for me. (Strangely, Devon woke up right as my blood draw was done…)
If there was a book on the love languages of toddlers, I’m pretty sure that sharing band-aids would be one of them. So this is what I call Love, Toddler Style.