Monday, January 3, 2011

Bandaids.

Gah!! Bandaids!! My child is obsessed with bandaids! On the one hand, this makes fixing any wound a cinch, because, with a bandaid, all is made better. On the other hand, god help me if I happen to be somewhere without a bandaid when one is necessary. She picks herself constantly, scratching til bloody, and then a full blown, crying howling melt down about needing a bandaid for the "bludy owie." The world comes to a screeching halt, and nothing can continue until the bandaid is applied.
Once a bandaid is procured it requires fixing, refixing, and constant replacing when it loses the stick, gets wet, gets food on it, comes undone. And, of course, she must apply them herself, leading to a high bandaid casualty rate. Today, she applied a bandaid with the end folded in on itself, I offered to cut the end off, and accepted the dull kitchen shears she offered me, and attempted to cut the end off, in the dark of the livingroom, without turning on the lights; even though my inner voice quietly said, go get the small sharp hair trimming scissors and turn on the lights. We all know how this type of story ends, I pinch cut her fleshy hand with the scissors, resulting in wailing, the need for an ice pack, and more bandaids on the hands to obsess over. Sigh... I guess I need to invest in bulk bandaids and start carrying them with me wherever I go. Then maybe life can carry on, despite the immediate need for a bandaid.

No comments:

Post a Comment