So far, I’ve written off The Boss’s teething pain as just something everyone goes through, a necessary twinge remedied with a hug and aggressive nibbling on my fingers.
But love without compassion does nothing to relieve The Boss’s suffering. I must not compare her pain with those of childbirth or root canal. Her writhing on the floor in complete agony should be more than enough to tell me this is the worst pain imaginable, far worse than my shame for not recognizing it sooner.
So this afternoon, after The Boss inconsolably wailed herself to sleep, I bought a bottle of liquid acetaminophen. This is not caving. This is compassion.
