The Band-Aid is a craft supply, a temporary tattoo, a sticker, an adhesive (when tape cannot be located) and an agent that binds two uncooperative objects (i.e. Barbie and a tiny Barbie hat or cell phone). Somehow, I thought they would have stopped giving after all this time, but on a semi-regular basis I come to find the tell-tale signs of their use (some argue misuse). The plastic tabs litter the couch where they have been peeled back and chucked hither and yon.
The Band-Aid has certain properties that I was unaware that they possessed before I had children to teach me about them. Apparently, when applied correctly, they can make a minor pain anywhere on your body disappear. Without medication of any kind, they soothe pain, even bruises. Bump your toe? Get a Band-Aid. A parent's kiss cannot match its healing salve. They do such a good job, that sometimes we feel left out. The misuse of Band-Aids really bugs my husband. He sees their flagrant use as a negative attention seeking behaviour. I tend to think that they are, as fixations go, rather a benign one. By taking it upon themselves to seek out the band-aid and determining when it is needed, I kind of see their use as a tactile way my kids make sense of injury and healing, evaluating pain and subduing it.
We try to explain that they should be reserved for when the skin is broken and there is blood, but the response is always along the lines of "oh but Mama, there IS broken skin and there IS blood." "Where?" "There, right there, can't you see it?"
You sticky oblong thing you, you are held in high regard*. Your powers are unseen but felt, your ways beyond my comprehension.
*Tara Anderson, takes the Band-Aid thing to a whole other level at her blog, The Pink Couch.
I, too, fluctuate between loving the power of the band-aid and disliking their wild misuse/waste.... but I am always amazed by their power over kidpain...always.
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