a needle pulling thread

It's always a pleasure to discover the old stuff you used to write. Simple experiences from the past can stand out just because they were captured on paper. So it was last night, when I was filing the new NSO-certified copies of the girls' birth certificates together with old bits and pieces, when I found this...

Children have a sweet way of making you a hero. All you have to do is be prepared for the day when they are ready to confer that title on you.

My daughter Nika received him during her baptism from my doctor and her godmother Dr. Marius. He was a toy baby lion. It was agreed that he be named Simba. Simba was a cuddly little thing, colored a peanut butter brown. By that time, Nika was still on to anything she can put her mouth on, so we postponed giving the baby lion to her.

She got him when she was about eight months old. It was love at first sight. Since that moment, baby girl and baby lion were inseparable. Nika slept with him, ate with him, crawled with him, and spent her waking hours holding him.

Then she learned to speak his name. "Imba." "Simba." By this time now, the soft toy has already received his numerous baths. We could not have him dry-cleaned since that would mean he shall be separated from his charge. So we gave him baths then hanged him inside the bathroom. Any hour Nika wanted to check on him, he was there.

As I have mentioned, Simba already took a number of baths. Added to that were the tossing, cuddling, falling into the garden and diving into the cereal plate. And the wet sloppy kisses of the toddler. Simba never lacked action.

And then he got sick. With the kind of life he was leading, the toy baby lion's back stitching unraveled. And today, his backside was now gaping with a hole. His foams tucked inside his body were showing. Nika was afraid to hold him, at the least look at him. She was afraid and I could imagine the fear to be real for a child.

"Mommy!" Simba was sick and Nika's world is shaken. She looked at the toy with surprise, pity and concern. To her, Simba was not supposed to get torn like that.

When she settled down for her morning nap, Nika was not embracing Simba. Simba was sick. So I took a needle and thread and tried to sew Simba's backside together again. Honestly, it was some task for me. What made me do it was my thoughts of how my own mother used to stitch on my torn dresses. Now I was doing the stitching for my own daughter.

When Nika woke up, I held Simba to her. She saw what I did. Then she paid me with the sweetest sunshiny smile a little daughter could give her mother. Why, I did what nobody else in the world could do. It was not just any easy feat. I cured her toy baby lion! Sans any proper training and lab gown, Mommy was indeed a doctor.

* Written October 28, 1999