Kids. They know more than we realize yet less than they might think. Disinformation is often more troublesome than no information at all. Imaginations run wild, thinking the worst…afraid of the perceived truth.

Such was the weekend. I was worse for wear but managed to smile despite the trials and tribulations of the week. Apparently my best attempt at a happy face was less than convincing as my youngest daughter sensed something was amiss. Her nervous demeanor was obvious as she flit from activity to activity, stopping only long enough to bake me a cherry pie on Saturday afternoon. I didn’t realize until then how afraid she was.

Sunday brought rain, a good day for popcorn and a movie. We snuggled on the couch, each absorbed in the silence of our own thoughts. I soon realized that neither of us was watching the movie. Finally a commercial. The time had come to broach the subject.

I picked up a pencil from her art set, one of many distractions which were pulled from the closest during the endless activities of the day before, and began to sketch a rough square on the paper. My daughter glanced over, pausing only briefly on the scribble before fixing upon my head where a wisp of hair had fallen away to reveal a large patch of bare scalp. I caught her glance out of the corner of my eye, then calmly asked for her help in designing some new bandanas. She started to speak, then hesitated so I opted to fill in the blanks. “My hair is falling out…it’s called Alopecia.” “Don’t worry, you can’t catch it…and it’s no big deal other than I might start to look different than you are used to.”

She smiled for a moment when I told her it felt like a baby’s butt, then pulled back my hair for her see. The smile slowly faded. I knew what was on her mind…the images of those who had lost their hair during chemo. “I don’t have cancer…and I’m planning on living in with you and being a big pain in the backside when I'm older.” A feigned smile returned to her face.

I explained in simple terms how my body thinks that the hair doesn’t belong so it over reacts by trying to get rid of it. She said that she understood, we exchanged hugs, then talked some more. As luck would have it, a commercial came on for an upcoming Vin Diesel movie. “So, are you going to look like him?” “Maybe”, I said…”I might shave what’s left if any more falls out.” “That’s OK”, she replied…”Just don’t surprise me when you do it. I’ll make you a bandana to wear…how about tie dye?” I gave her another big hug and said thank you. If only the rest of the world was so accepting…