Boy was I wrong.

I have to write this down before I forget.

A few Sundays back we were sitting a bit closer to one of Braxton's favorite ladies, Sister Clifford. His love for this family started with candy each week from Brother Clifford. My little guy was always on the lookout for him when we entered the building. Soon he was sitting in their row snuggled up to Leah. Man was he disappointed when she left the ward. She knew he LOVES mazes and bought a book just for him. Now Sister Clifford carries it in her purse every Sunday and he begs her to draw "trickier" mazes on lined paper.

It must have been after one of those requests where Braxton decided he wanted to trace his hand. He does this quite often so nothing struck me about him moving the pencil in and out of his little fingers. Next he scribbled all over. Julie looked at him in a confused way I am sure because without hesitation he said "It's blood!"

I thought, "Oh how morbid." I couldn't believe my son was drawing a gushing cut right in the middle of sacrament meeting. Not something I had even seen him do at home. He doesn't talk that way either. I wanted to keep Braxton from going into detail about how this happened. We didn't need the story. So I asked for the pencil and took it to the point where I saw him start this bloody mess. I drew my best band aid. He shot me this look of disgust, probably wanting to say out loud that I had ruined his picture. He didn't though. He just started looking for the eraser.

Julie and I laughed. I said, "I guess moms can't fix everything."

Then he let me know, "This is the blood on the inside. Vessels, mom."

WHEW! Braxton absorbing medical lessons and then turning them into drawings is a lot better than the horror I thought it was.