The Band-Aid

I am totally amazed.  I really had no idea of the almost supernatural healing power of Band-Aids…at least to a four year old.  Mason has discovered this little known bit of information and uses it every chance he gets.  I totally see needing a Band-Aid after tripping in the middle of the living room and falling onto nice soft carpet.  Of course, it can get a little difficult to pin point the exact location of the alleged injury when there is absolutely no mark, and one cannot remember which shoulder actually hit the ground.  But I digress.

Personally, I don't even wear Band-Aids after accidentally running an angle grinder over a couple knuckles.  I figure if my skin comes off that easily, then I didn't really need it in the first place.  Am I right?  Well, Mason on the other hand needs a Band-Aid for ANYTHING and is in excruciating pain until one gets applied.  Sometimes I think I am sitting at a Broadway show with some of the performances I have seen from him.  I don't know how many times I've heard Laura ask him where he needs it since there is no obvious sign of trauma.  Even then, one is never enough.

I get home from work and Mason excitedly meets me at the back door.  Was he excited because he had not seen me all day?  Nope!  He wanted to show me all of his new Band-Aids he had amassed during the day.  I start counting as he points them out, 1…2…3…4…5.  I asked him a simple question: "Have a rough day?" to which he replied simply: "Yep" and walked back in the house leaving me standing on the back step pondering whether I should start investing in Band-Aid stock.

Of course, it is the middle of summer with temperatures in the upper 90's and just thinking about going outside will open sweat glands.  Since I seem to be a glutton for punishment, I decide to work outside for a while and try to get more of the corn crib down.  Mason was right there with me.  After about 30 minutes, Mason and I are both drenched and I noticed that some of his Band-Aids are starting to peel off.  Not wanting to start an incident, I choose not to bring this fact to his attention and instead suggest we go inside, get a drink and cool off.  Air conditioning is great by the way!  

After we both got cooled off, Mason and I started wrestling in the living room, floppy Band-Aids and all.  Every once in a while, one of Mason's Band-Aids would fall off.  With the palm of his hand stuffed in my face and him shouting "wait, wait, wait…" I would watch him try to stick this mangled piece of cloth back on his foot.  Sweat, carpet fuzz and other contaminants make it difficult to retain enough stick to adequately stay where intended.

Being that I am seven and a quarter times older than he is, and comfortable knowing that number shrinks with every passing day (think about it), I decided to admit defeat and go sit in my easy chair.  I guess Mason was not done tumbling around on the floor, running from room to room and quite frankly creating a ruckus.  I noticed on one of his inbound trips from the kitchen, he had lost the Band-Aid on his foot.  I did not see it anywhere on the living room floor and certainly wasn't going to point it out.  He rolled around on the floor again for a while before charging back to the kitchen.

There it was…yup…stuck to the back of his head.  That's right…head!  Somehow, that Band-Aid managed to migrate from his foot and get stuck firmly in his hair.  Apparently, sweat, carpet fuzz and other contaminates only prevent the glue from sticking to skin because it sure held tight to his hair.  One quick tug…well, two quick tugs (having not anticipated the veracity of the 'contaminated' glue) freed the Band-Aid.  Of course, this ultimately lead to the worlds second best magical cure, the ice pack.  I guess Mason did not appreciate the complexities of proper Band-Aid removal techniques.

Tags: Band-Aid, Mason