Cream Fairy

My children have eczema.  I know this is a scintillating fact. However, it has forced me to reevaluate my mothering skills, as does pretty much every. thing. every. single. day. So youngest child, let's just call him Stalin, has had bad eczema this past year or so. When I put the prescription steroid cream on his delicate broken-skinned fingers, it hurts. Fair enough.  Except that he is very, um, vocal when displeased and on the occasions when I don't feel like holding him down, listening to his ear-splitting screams and fighting back, I sigh, dejected, and give up.  Once, I even whined about it to my mother-in-law.  Well, on this occasion, brilliant mother-in-law suggested I put the cream on him while he sleeps!! Brilliant.  Except that now, when he has bad eczema, he asks for "cream fairy" to come. So "cream fairy" sneaks into his room and puts the potent steroid on his bumpy little fingers while he tosses and turns and then she sneaks back out, exhaling the whole way.

Yesterday, cream fairy was overtaken by mean mommy (she comes around more often than cream fairy). Here's what happened.  In the morning, we were all getting ready for shul (synagogue). By all, I mean my husband had gone to shul and my perfect eldest son (Pes) decided to stay home (he usually goes) so I was home for the morning with Pes, Zsa Zsa and Eva (my girls), and Stalin. We were all getting dressed and Stalin showed me his completely disgusting, red, raw finger that he had rubbed all the skin off in an attempt to scratch and requested the pleasure of cream fairy's company in his room for that evening.  Suddenly, it dawned on me. HE IS FOUR YEARS OLD AND I AM THE MOTHER AND I CAN PUT CREAM ON MY CHILD ANY DARN TOOTIN' TIME I WANT. And that's what I told him. Except he might not have heard me because he was screaming so loudly. And I put the cream on. And it felt good.  And he looked at me like I'd lost my mind.  And I had.