I have been spending some time each day helping the girls put toys away in the upstairs play room. In this process, I have gathered an entire plastic box filled with items that belong in other rooms in the house. Included in this box was a gift bag with Barbie on it. Probably left from some birthday.
As I picked it up to place it in the plastic box and put it away where it belongs, I noticed that poor Barbie seems to have suffered a horrible blow to the head! She appears to be bleeding profusely from her forehead. (marker? stamp pad? Who knows.)
And yet, her smile is firmly in place. She has her pearls on and not a hair on her head is out of place. She has her crown and her septor, and appears calm and unfazed.
Or, is she in shock?
Is she aware of her injury?
Sometimes I feel like Barbie.
I rarely wear my pearls, though. And, my hair is often out of place! So, I fancy myself to be far more REAL than Barbie in that regard.
There is not a person on Earth, except myself, who could treat my wound.
And so ... with my actions and inactions, I self-treat my wound. So far, so good. I think.