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Grammy got Mazzy a doctor kit a couple of months ago, and she has since grown obsessed. She calls herself Dr. Mazzy and tends to all the boo-boos (real or imagined) in the house. If you have a cut or a splinter or a bruise or a tummy ache or a stubbed toe, Dr. Mazzy has a cure for you.

But first, she must hide in a corner and put on her pretend Dr. Mazzy jacket, much like Clark Kent slipping into a phone booth to turn into Superman. Mazzy actually owns a play costume doctor jacket (given to us by Piccolini) but in boo-boo emergencies, there is no time to get it and she must wear the invisible one.

Then she takes out her doctor kit and goes to work.

This usually means, taking the heartbeat, the temperature and the blood pressure of whatever body part the boo-boo is situated, followed by a routine check-up of the ears and reflexes (goddamn, she is into that reflex hammer!) and then ends with a shot and a band aid.

Her prognosis is usually “excellent” except for the ears which always contain “germs” and require medicine.

Afterwards, we humor her and pretend that our boo-boos are miraculously cured, even if it’s a bloody head wound that probably requires stitches.

It also works the other way around, and sometimes when Mazzy bumps her head or gets a scratch, Dr. Mommy “suits up”, grabs the kit and goes to work. In these cases, I usually prescribe a hug from Mommy which has an excellent success rate. (Pfizer should be contacting me for the patent any day now.)

Today, I had a pretty sucky day (through no fault of Mazzy’s, oddly enough) and although I am usually one to hold it together, I needed to have myself a good cry. I went into my bedroom to be alone for a moment, but of course, Mazzy followed me inside.

I asked her if she could go play with Daddy but before I could stop myself, I felt my face crumble right in front of her.

I think she’s only seen me cry once before but it was out of frustration WITH HER, so this was very different. And back then, she was too young to understand or care.

This time, Mazzy stopped in her tracks and stared at me, and I saw something new in her face that I’ve ever seen before— GENUINE CONCERN.

Or maybe the look was more GENUINE CONFUSION, but I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt.

I told her Mommy just gets sad sometimes but I’d be okay.

Mazzy’s immediate solution was to present me with her BOO (Old Boo is now in two pieces and she even offered me the good half), which I gratefully accepted but then asked again if she could go play with Daddy. She obliged by running out.

Two seconds later, she appeared back in the doorway with her doctor kit.

“Can I check on you?”

I smiled through my tears and said yes.

Then Dr. Mazzy dutifully went through her routine— checking my heartbeat, my blood pressure, my germ-filled ears, and pronouncing my condition “excellent”. She ended with a band aid on my arm and recommended a hug. Then she asked, “Do you feel better now, Mommy?”

I totally did.

Dr. Mazzy. Miracle worker.