On Wednesday, I took the boys to the library for our weekly visit, and Judah, being so eager to get into the library, thought he'd open the door by himself. I was impressed he was able to open that heavy door a crack... but it was just enough to get his other hand inside the door and squish the fingers. What followed next was a bloody murder scream. It echoed throughout the cavernous stairway.
So, I applied the wisdom of "What's Wrong, Little Pookie?"
For those of you who've never read it, the gist of the story is this: Little Pookie is crying, and his mother is trying to figure out why. She goes through the usual checklist... are you hungry? tired? etc. And Pookie says no. Then the mom gets silly... is a dinosaur wearing your shoes? etc. And by the end of the book, Little Pookie is so distracted that he forgot why he was crying in the first place.
"Did a hippopotamus squish your fingers in the door?" I asked. Judah stopped screaming to sniffle a "Yeah." "Well, which way did he go? Did he go into the library? We'd better find him and tell him he crunched your fingers in the door." And that was the end of that.
It usually works as long as it's not a terrible awful very bad pain.
If you've never read the book, see if you can find it at your local library. It's very cute.
And here's my Little Pookie. :-)