Poppy Says Where It Hurts

“Thank you,” said Grandma Nia. “Now I know where it hurts and how it happened.” She opened her small garden bag. Poppy’s knee prickled in the air. Sami came close, holding the berry lid. “Can Poppy still be head cook?” he asked. Poppy swallowed. “Maybe after help,” she said, though she wanted to run back now.

Grandma Nia took out a clean cloth and a little bottle of water. “I can rinse the sand away,” she said. “You can hold my sleeve.” Poppy held tight. The water felt cold and tickly. She made a squeaky sound, then breathed out. “Still my knee,” she said. “But less scratchy.”

Grandma Nia smiled. “Try saying the whole thing, little one.” Poppy touched the air above her knee, not the scrape. “My knee hurts. I slipped on sand at the slide and bumped it.” The words came out small, then steadier. Grandma Nia nodded. “That tells me how to help.” Poppy felt taller on the wall.

Grandma Nia patted Poppy’s knee dry with the corner of the cloth. The sting was smaller now, like a sour berry seed. Poppy slid one foot toward the sand kitchen. “I can cook now,” she said. But when she bent her knee, her mouth made a tiny oof all by itself.

Sami waved the berry lid. “Soup is bubbling!” Poppy smiled, then stopped. The oof had told the truth before her words did. She looked at Grandma Nia’s kind face. “It still hurts when I bend it,” Poppy said. “Not big. But there.” She pointed to the side of her knee.

“Good noticing,” Grandma Nia said. “Let’s give your knee a small rest before running.” She found a soft bandage in her garden bag. “May I put this on?” Poppy nodded and held still. The bandage felt smooth and snug. Sami set the berry lid beside her. “Head cook can sit and stir,” he said.

Poppy sat on the wall with one foot in the sand and one foot resting. Sami brought spoonfuls of sand soup to her station. “More leaf pepper?” he asked. Poppy laughed. Her knee gave one little sting, and this time she did not hide it. “I felt a sting,” she told Grandma Nia. “I’m staying sitting.”

After a little while, the sun warmed Poppy’s vest. The garden bees hummed over the flowers. Poppy wiggled her toes, then bent her knee slowly. “It pulls, but it does not sting like before,” she said. Grandma Nia listened. “Then walking is a good first try. Running can wait.” Poppy nodded.

Poppy stood beside Grandma Nia and took three slow steps. Crunch, crunch, went the sand under her feet. “I am walking like a careful beetle,” she told Sami. Then her knee gave a small pull. Poppy stopped. “little one, I’m telling Grandma,” she said. “It pulls on the side when I step.”

Sami rolled a smooth pebble across the sand. “Soup delivery!” he called. Poppy forgot for one hop and hurried after it. Her knee pinched. She stopped with both paws tight on her pouch. “I tried to go fast,” she said, cheeks warm. “The pinch came back.” Grandma Nia held out her hand. “Thank you for telling me.”

Poppy took a breath that smelled like mint leaves and warm sand. She pointed carefully. “Here, on the side of my knee. It pinched when I hopped after the pebble.” Grandma Nia looked and listened. “That tells me a lot,” she said. “Let’s choose a game where your knee can stay quiet.”

They made a new soup shop on the wall. Sami carried sand in a cup. Poppy added leaf pepper with two fingers. Grandma Nia sat close, mending a glove from her garden bag. Poppy’s knee rested still. “No sting now,” Poppy said. “I can play this way.” The berries in the basket shone red and sweet.

When it was time to go home, Poppy walked slowly beside Grandma Nia. Her pouch bumped softly against her vest. “If I get hurt again, I can stop,” she said. “I can say where, and what happened, and let a grown-up help.” Grandma Nia smiled. “Yes, little one. That is a brave thing to do.”