Abbe wakes up, crying. I go out to the bathroom, grab a few compresses and make them wet. I go into Abbe’s room. By now Abbe is really devastated, because he can’t open his eyes.
I hold the crying child while I try to keep the wet compress as still as I possible, on this eye. He’s now kicking, screaming and panicking. When the rock hard glue has dissolved into a tough goo he manages to open up the little eye and then it’s time for a new compress, on the other eye.
Finally, when Abbe can see with both eyes again, when the cough resulting from his great effort has eased off and when dad’s pulse has slowed down – I lift him up. I give him a hug and say “sorry, and good morning”. Reconciliation feels important.