To a small child, there’s something magical about a Band-Aid. When my daughter scrapes her knee, she can’t wait to ask for one, as if it will instantly take away her pain. She loves Band-Aids so much she’ll request one for any boo-boo: a bump, a bruise, a mosquito bite. Once she gets a bandage, she searches her arms and legs for long-forgotten injuries, which might justify her request for another one.
Her nursery school teacher has a great rule: No blood, no Band-Aid. I’ve borrowed this line a few times, much to my daughter’s dismay. Then I think, Gee, if it means that much to her, why not just give her a one? So I hand her a Dora Band-Aid and she says, no, that’s not the one she wants. She wants a princess one. Or maybe Hello Kitty. She starts digging through the boxes.
Life was so much easier when bandages were like lunch sacks--you had your choice of just one color. As my daughter struggles to make her selection, I feel another one of my hairs turning gray. She definitely wants a princess design—but which one? Ariel, Jasmine, Belle or Sleeping Beauty? Decisions, decisions. . . . It’s time to use another one of her nursery school teacher’s lines: You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.
It doesn’t help that Band-Aids really are “ouchless” now. Back in the day, children may have liked getting doctored up, but they knew it would hurt later when the bandage came off. This generation will never understand the phrase “Do it quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid.” In fact, their adhesive is so non-stick, they sometimes fall off within hours (or minutes with a little help). Right away my daughter gladly announces that she needs another.
Band-Aids bring little ones so much joy, it’s tempting to allow them to plaster their bodies until they are covered in cartoon character graffiti. A friend of mine even gives her daughter Band-Aids as rewards for practicing the piano. How creative, I think. I insist, though, that there be some visible wound before doling out the sticky prize. I’d hate for the Band-Aid to lose its magical healing powers any sooner than necessary. In the back of my mind, I know that someday my daughter’s hurts won’t be fixed so easily.
One day my four-year old sat in the kitchen where she had smelled, touched and tasted the spices that I’d added to my Bistro Chicken the night before. It was morning, though, and we were not cooking.
She stuck out her lower lip, looking sad. “Mom, I have a cut on my lip. I need a Band-Aid.”
“You can’t put a Band-Aid on your lip,” I replied.
“Why not?”
“It won’t stay on, Sweetie.”
She squirmed in her seat. “But what will make it feel better?”
“The only thing that will make it feel better is time.”
She answered quickly, “Well, put thyme on it then!”
I laughed, but she did not.
They say laughter is the best medicine and time heals all wounds. Those words may bring comfort to some people, but in our house, nothing beats a Band-Aid. A princess Band-Aid. No wait. . . .
Your Turn to Comment: What character would you like to see on a band-aid?
Her nursery school teacher has a great rule: No blood, no Band-Aid. I’ve borrowed this line a few times, much to my daughter’s dismay. Then I think, Gee, if it means that much to her, why not just give her a one? So I hand her a Dora Band-Aid and she says, no, that’s not the one she wants. She wants a princess one. Or maybe Hello Kitty. She starts digging through the boxes.
Life was so much easier when bandages were like lunch sacks--you had your choice of just one color. As my daughter struggles to make her selection, I feel another one of my hairs turning gray. She definitely wants a princess design—but which one? Ariel, Jasmine, Belle or Sleeping Beauty? Decisions, decisions. . . . It’s time to use another one of her nursery school teacher’s lines: You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.
It doesn’t help that Band-Aids really are “ouchless” now. Back in the day, children may have liked getting doctored up, but they knew it would hurt later when the bandage came off. This generation will never understand the phrase “Do it quickly, like ripping off a Band-Aid.” In fact, their adhesive is so non-stick, they sometimes fall off within hours (or minutes with a little help). Right away my daughter gladly announces that she needs another.
Band-Aids bring little ones so much joy, it’s tempting to allow them to plaster their bodies until they are covered in cartoon character graffiti. A friend of mine even gives her daughter Band-Aids as rewards for practicing the piano. How creative, I think. I insist, though, that there be some visible wound before doling out the sticky prize. I’d hate for the Band-Aid to lose its magical healing powers any sooner than necessary. In the back of my mind, I know that someday my daughter’s hurts won’t be fixed so easily.
One day my four-year old sat in the kitchen where she had smelled, touched and tasted the spices that I’d added to my Bistro Chicken the night before. It was morning, though, and we were not cooking.
She stuck out her lower lip, looking sad. “Mom, I have a cut on my lip. I need a Band-Aid.”
“You can’t put a Band-Aid on your lip,” I replied.
“Why not?”
“It won’t stay on, Sweetie.”
She squirmed in her seat. “But what will make it feel better?”
“The only thing that will make it feel better is time.”
She answered quickly, “Well, put thyme on it then!”
I laughed, but she did not.
They say laughter is the best medicine and time heals all wounds. Those words may bring comfort to some people, but in our house, nothing beats a Band-Aid. A princess Band-Aid. No wait. . . .
Your Turn to Comment: What character would you like to see on a band-aid?
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