The following is a conversation I had with my 2-year-old daughter that takes an ongoing battle to a revealing extreme:
M- (with a very serious, soft voice, sticking a finger into my face): See this finger? Look at this finger. That's an owie. (changing gears to a sharply pained whimper instead) I need a Band-Aid...
Me (looks at finger, then rubs off a crumb of the previous night's red Jello cake): Nope, that's just cake. You'll survive.
M-: Oh... yeah! That's just cake... (relieved laugh)
In case you're wondering why all those balloons are falling from the ceiling, it's because I have now officially spent 500 full hours of my life denying bandages to my children for wounds that are questionable --or in this case, edible-- at best.
You may enjoy my previous M- conversations, (5YO son) D- conversations, and (wife) J- conversations.
12 comments:
When my son hurt his arm a few years ago, I told him to butch up, he would be fine, quit whining. Turns out it was broken.
I, too, deny bandaids for crumb injuries.
The acridity of this post wafts of parsnips.
And you thought I should comment...
So funny! Gotta love those kids of yours, doncha?
At least she could laugh at it and not demand that it still needed the bandage because the crumb hurt her.
MAW, I believe the statute of limitations on child abuse reports in Michigan is 20 years, so I'll go ahead and report you to the authorities.
Mary, now that you mention it, I'm kind of surprised by that, because that would be her usual M.O.
But... but... Band-Aids are so cool! Especially those awesome tattoo ones...
I'd want a Band-Aid if I had a crumb, too.
I think this is a celebration for all parents. We all know that the Band-aid company secretly sends messages to our children to tell them that any and all things weird/hurt/itchy or whatever NEEDS a bandaid to make it better. This is a constant battle- one I often lose- since Hubby takes care of the chillins when I am working and he couldn't care less if they are covered head to toe with bandaids, as long as they shut up.
well i'll be sure to call you if i have any questionable work injuries.
HHhhmmm...using cake instead of bandaids for owees - killing two birds with one stone again, huh?
Just today, Tyler fell (he's learning to walk) and faceplanted on the front of his sandbox. I actually laughed at him. He did the face contortion that warned of imminent crying, and I said "You're okay, buddy. Let's keep playing." He smiled and kept playing.
Boys are awesome!
Meh, I just give them a box of bandaids and let them go at it. Gives me at least half an hour of uninterrupted blogging time!
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