Band Aid Solutions

As they say in addictions, the first step is admitting you have a problem. Hello, my name is Anita and my son is addicted to band-aids.

I'm not sure how we got here really. There was a time when the feel of a band aid on his skin would drive him absolutely nuts. Perhaps I created the beginnings of this problem by purchasing the fancy Dora the Explorer band aids last summer in attempt to keep skinned knees and elbows reasonably clean at the cottage.

Fast forward to the events of late last week when running excitedly home from the mailbox with his Dad, my son tripped and fell on the crusty snow giving himself a minor abrasion on his chin. I was at work, but apparently hysterics prevailed and a good dose of cuddling as well as a well-placed band-aid did the trick and he quickly fell asleep.

Every morning since there has been an elaborate ritual of band aid replacement involving polysporin applied just so along with the largest band aid available from our box of assorted shapes and sizes. Forget the fact there is almost no visible evidence of a scrape - this is a ritual approaching religious solemnity!

Last night at bed time my distraught child came down with his prized band-aid dangling from one adhesive strip needing an emergency replacement - pronto! We are now at the point where the persistent application of band aid adhesive strips is causing more of a problem than the original injury. Being a responsible parent, I decided we needed to bring this to an end. Hah! No such luck!

After much negotiation, he was appeased with a large strip of airy gauze held in place in with surgical tape well away from the site of irritation caused by the original band aid fetish. He was thrilled! A huge white chunk of gauze is much more impressive. He reminded me of Alfalfa with a toothache on Little Rascals. He went to bed happy. I went to bed thinking I may have just created a monster! Sure enough, I was summoned to his room twice in the middle of the night to ensure his bandage was in its proper place.

This morning he woke with his new dressing falling off and ready to begin the morning ritual of band aid replacement when my husband remarked, "Well look at that! You're healed!!" Taking that at face value (helped along by the fact he isn't tall enough to see into our vanity mirrors) he happily headed downstairs while my husband and I exchanged looks of relief. I'm pretty sure we were both thinking, "How did we get off so easy?!" in the wake of last night's hysterics.

The moral of the story, I suppose I could dig deep, but in all honesty.... well there is none!... other than the fact that 5 year olds are persistent little critters and it helps to have a sense of humor when dealing with them!