Kidy
It happens fast, little one. One moment you are running across the yard, the next the ground jumps up, and there you are, sitting down hard, with a scrape on your knee and a sting that fills the whole world. There is even a little blood, which makes everything feel ten times bigger.
Growy takes one look at your knee and bursts into a wail, WAAAAH, so loud that a bird falls off the fence in surprise. Growy wails louder than you. Growy wails so hard that you stop crying just to watch. 'Growy,' you say, patting a shaking green paw, 'it is a scrape. Breathe.' Growy hiccups, sniffs, and goes quiet. 'Sorry,' Growy mumbles. 'That was not helping, was it.'
'Here is what nobody tells you about stings,' says Growy, recovered now. 'They are loudest in the first minute. Just one minute. So we count it out loud, slowly, and we let it be loud, and then we check again.' You count together, one slow number at a time, and somewhere around forty the sting shrinks from the whole world down to just one knee.
Then comes the water, a quick clean rinse, and the plaster. And this plaster has a tiny star printed on it, and as it smooths down over the scrape, the star gives a soft glow. 'It fades a little every day,' Growy says, 'exactly as fast as the skin underneath mends itself. Skin knows how to mend itself. Your job is only the first minute.' When the star is gone, the knee is done.
You stand up, take one careful step, then another, and then you are running again, plaster star and all. 'So, little one,' Growy calls, keeping up, 'did we grow a little today?' You did. 'Here is your little grow for tomorrow,' says Growy. 'Next sting or bump, count one slow minute out loud, and see how much smaller it is at the end.' See you tomorrow, little one.