How a «Spiisse» taught me a lesson in parenting
The teacher called recently. That always makes me a little nervous. You never know what's coming. «We were outside,» I heard. Barefoot, and now there's a splinter, a «Spiisse», in my son's toe. Okay, I thought, I can handle this. I shut down my computer, took my bike out of the garage and headed for the playground.
There he sat, clutching his foot and holding back tears. In situations like this, I like to feel a little heroic. As if I were wearing a cape and flying in with my fist outstretched. But we went home as normal.
It was after 4 p.m. when we arrived there. «May I ...?» I asked cautiously. No, he wanted to try it himself. No close combat for now, fine. (Perhaps I should mention that he had only ever had his fingernails cut while he was asleep.) Still doubtful, I fetched him the tweezers and got my glasses ready.
Gently, very gently, he fiddled with my toe. I sighed heavily, more and more heavily, every time he fumbled around in the void with the tweezers.
The son continued to fiddle with the splinter. He groaned, complained, despaired, while «minimally invasive» took on a new meaning.
At 4:35 p.m., I was allowed to take a look. «Should I ...?» Now I was at least as ready for it as Dr Gütterli on our Kasperli CD back then, who pulled a «tree trunk!» out of Chaschper's finger. «Sodeli, now it's out,» I could surely have said as casually and confidently as he did. But I realised that it wasn't a good moment, neither for Kasperli quotes nor for interventions on my part.
The son continued to fiddle with the entrance gate of the splinter. He groaned, complained, despaired, while «minimally invasive» took on a new meaning. «If only you would let me do it,» I thought. But so loudly that it could be felt. I should encourage him, believe in him, I knew that. And at that moment, I believed quite firmly in his failure.
Condemned to watch
Twenty minutes later, he was worn down enough to give me the tweezers – but he pulled his foot away every time I got closer. Should I threaten him or use force? Despair and tears were already welling up inside him. About the «Spiisse», this afternoon, his whole life.
The situation was serious, and I was still stuck watching. So I googled it. I fetched soapy water and pins, disinfectant, plasters, and whatever else I could find in the bathroom cabinet. Then I demonstrated the best angle for the needle on my own hand. More like a doctor who wants to encourage cooperation rather than hand over the scalpel. However, he continued to struggle.
The «Spiisse» had to be lifted. But in his own way, which was not mine, and what's more, it was the better way.
At 5.20 p.m., I googled again. This time, I searched for how Zugsalbe works and when Permanence closes. And because I was holding my mobile phone in my hand, I shone the light on his toe for a little while longer. When my arm went numb and I was about to give up, thinking that it was definitely not going to work, he triumphantly lifted the «log» into the air.
«Well, now he's out,» I almost said. Instead, I congratulated him incredulously and all the more effusively. I was almost as relieved as he was, but also a little embarrassed.
The «Spiisse» had to be lifted. But in his own way, which was not mine, and what's more, the better way. Even if I realised this late – when I saw his almost unblemished skin and his pride. And if one of us deserved a cape now, it certainly wasn't me.
