Communication … not so easy

The wail from the bedroom is long and loud. We’re twenty minutes into naptime, and all had been quiet till just this second.

“What’s wrong, Anna?”

“My EYE! My EYE is hurted!”

That’s pretty clear. While both eyes are tear-filled, one is weeping far more than the other, and tightens shut as she tries to look at me.

“Where does it hurt?”
She prods the outer quadrant of her upper lid.
“I hurted my EYE!”

I peer into her eye, hoping for a nice, obvious eyelash. Nope. I lift the upper lid, then pull out the lower. Nothing.

“Blink, honey.” She continues to wince; the eye continues to tear. “What happened?”

“I hurted my EYE!” Yes, sweetie, so you said. I think we’ve established that.

I take hold of her long eyelashes and gently pull her upper lid away from the eye.

“I don’t see an eyelash in there.”
“Is not an eyelash. My eye is hurted.”
“Well, sometimes you can get an eyelash in your eye, and it really hurts.”
“Is not an eyelash. I didn’t put an eyelash in my eye. It was THIS!”

And out from under the covers comes her hairband. Her pink plastic hairband with the white polka-dots on it. Her pink plastic hairband with which she had just given herself a solid poke in the eye.

Poor mite. She was telling me. I just wasn’t hearing.

And the hairband came downstairs with me.