Monkey See, Monkey Do

Dear Tattered Angel,


     The time is quickly approaching for your little sister to arrive to take her place in the ranks of our family.  Tonight, after spending the day in contractions, beginning at 4:30am this morning, your mother thought it wise to make a short trip to the hospital to verify she isn't starting early into labor, so here I am at the hospital setting in the "wait for the doctor to call room" with your mother verifying your little sister isn't planning an early entrance into this world. 

Perhaps to help in clarification of the title," Monkey See, Monkey Do", I might explain that every since you were born we have addressed you by your nickname, Monkey.  People may think this is a little odd for a little girl to be called by such a nickname as most little girls are called by such endearing names as princess or sweetheart.  You have always answered by your nickname in spite of your mothers objections.  In the past , your mother tried to end the nickname by correcting me or your siblings when we beckoned for our little monkey by title, but as soon as you where able to speak, you quickly corrected mother by instructing her, "Me Monkey!"  With a little background on the title I can now elaborate on the story of the post.

After your first cast was removed, much of the skin covered by the cast had resulted in thick layers of dead peeling skin from weeks of being buried deep out of sight of air or light.  Once exposed to the air, the layers of skin began to dry out and peel like the dead skin from a sunburn causing tiny fingers to begin to scratch.  At every chance you shoved your little fingers deep into your new cast as the cast allowed to attempt to remove irritating skin from deep within the legs of the cast.  After observing a number of attempts to find relief, I decided to help provide a little relief for my irritable daughter.  Retrieving a smooth plastic toy knife, I carefully forced the blade into the leg of the cast, moving the blade up and down, in and out of your legs.  Immediately signs of relief began to be demonstrated, right away  leaning back to allow as much access to the top of the cast for the blade to enter, you would direct, "Again, daddy, again."  If even a second was lost, our little angel quickly announced her displeasure with interruptions to her treatment by demanding for efforts to resume immediately.  After repeating the process a number of times, a tired father put the toy blade down and explained he was exhausted and his fingers hurt.  Very unhappy with the lack of commitment to continuing relief, our two year old retrieved the plastic blade and mimicked her newly taught routine to reach the areas little fingers were incapible of before.  As our little daughter moves about her day she can now be found carrying her trusty blade everywhere she goes.  Once setting still on the floor in front of the TV, a cautious insertion of the blade or toothbrush can be observed as little hands move the object up and down to relief itchy spots deep inside casted legs.