A couple of weeks ago I had a new patient come in for Heilkunst treatment. Her intake form indicated that she was two and a half years old. As soon as her Mom and she arrived, it took me about 30 seconds to apprehend her Constitution. Mom had a harboured exasperation and the child made a bee-line around the whole of my home before landing in my office. Because I’m well versed in Constitutions, I started to think about what in my office I truly valued as I knew that no stone would remain unturned and unexplored. I accessed and offered the little wooden horse, book on the very hungry caterpillar, water-based markers, paper, the shells I keep on my desk and the timer I use for my timing the waits between Bowen moves thinking these items might be a hit with this very busy babe. The mom was apologizing profusely for her precocious child and it was easy to see that the offered diversions were not going to be absorbed into this babe’s obvious vortex of exploration. It was difficult for her to receive anything proffered when postured with the accelerator to the floor. We had a wee tasmanian devil in our midst.
While the Mom and I attempted to talk, she throwing bits of food at the maw of the perpetually hungry and thirsty babe to try and placate her need to turn all the focus onto her. The food was just adding fuel to an already hot little fire! You could just feel the tension in the child and I bided my time until she superseded Mom’s capacity to quell her imaginative hunger versus her desire to thoroughly explore my office without us getting in her way. I let Mom know that we’d get only as far as we could today and that it was no problem to set up a short telephone consultation afterwards so that we might answer any left-over questions she might have about her child’s Heilkunst treatment at a time more conducive for her when the child was at daycare.
This little girl was so brilliantly engaging that she just obscured and virtually cancelled out her Mom who kept apologizing, attempting to get the child to “be polite,” coercing her to say polite phrases to thank me. I laughed to myself thinking about what a botched mission this would be from the get-go as her rebellious nature was already in motion. This babe was a riotous blur of movement and activity, and rightfully, the last thing in her mind were “please and thank yous.” It was just a matter of time, before the Mom and I became so engaged that we lost track of the two year old on her mission to turn my office upside down as a function of her destinal path. I even typed her blood, thinking that would slow her down a bit. That lasted about 10 minutes!
I have a little spot on my desk where I keep hidden a bottle of peppermint essential oil to put in my water, on occasion, along with an all natural peppermint lip balm made by Saponetta Divino. Before I could move to retrieve my two valued personal items, she had the cap whipped off the lip balm which canon-balled across the desk to land, on the other side of the room, somewhere in my blood typing kit, not to be located until I next typed another patient’s blood a few days later. The next thing the Mom and I knew, the child had smeared the contents of my lip balm all over her mouth and chin. The next thing we heard was her exclaim, “Pretty lips, Momma, pretty lips!” We both laughed pretty hard, diffusing the tension. Apparently she does the same with her Mom’s lipsticks on occasion. We both agreed by affirming the babe, “Yes, darlin’ pretty lips for sure.”
She went home with the pretty lips stick, without the lid, and my firm understanding of her constitution. I also knew why the respiratory issues plagued her, as they were derived from up her parent’s and grand-parent’s genetic history. The following week, I had the pleasure of starting to treat the Mom, bolstering her confidence about how to effectively navigate a Sulphur constitution, and extending my sympathies.