Saturday, June 12, 2010


I just spent about an hour reorganizing the medicine cabinet. I have to do that at least once a month. You know, if my kids didn't have allergies and asthma, there would be a lot less stuff in there. A lot.

But there would still be bandaids.

Ahhh, bandaids. Of course, I use the term loosely, since we have bandages from all the major companies in the house. They are just universally bandaids to the kids.

I'd love to be the guy who invented them all those years ago. It's such a simple idea, really. Just some plastic with a pad attached. That isn't what makes them special though. The magical mystical healing power is what makes them awesome.

Sometimes the kids beg me for bandaids to heal wounds that aren't even bleeding. I oblige. Because, really, the bandaid isn't about covering and protecting a wound. At least not the kid sized bandaids. They are about something completely different.

For some kids, the bandaid is about you taking the time to calm them, to carry them inside and sit them on the counter and hug them and make it all better. It's more about kissing the boo-boo than covering it in the first place.

For other kids, they just want permission to get the bandaid. And they want you to help them, but not help them too much. They want to try to fix this themselves. Sometimes it takes a few extra bandaids. Sometimes the tape folds over on itself when little fingers are trying to open the package. Sometimes the bandaid misses the mark or ends up upside down. Sometimes three just work better than one. That's why they come in boxes of twenty or more.

For still other kids, bandaids are just super awesome stickers. I've found more than one of my children with an entire leg covered in bandaids before.

I buy a lot of bandaids.

We have them in all different sizes and characters. We have waterproof ones and breathable ones. We have specialty shapes and nice generic plain ones for the grown ups. I buy a lot of bandaids. And a lot of bandaids take up a lot of space.

I finally consolidated them all into one container. Not that I honestly believe for one second that they will all stay in there. Or that it won't be emptied that much sooner because of the ease of access now. For the moment at least, they are all happily contained in one place.

I'm sure that the combining of the bandaids is a bad idea for lots of reasons, not the least of which is that my husband will very likely need one at some point.

I doubt he wants to walk around with Buzz Lightyear or Barbie on his cuts...even if those kid sized bandaids really are coated with magical mystical healing power.

1 comment:

  1. I used to keep spongebob ones in my classroom. They were so popular, that I made the kids sing the theme song to get one. Charlotte will spend an hour going through the "bandaide" box and try and see through the wrapper to pick the "right" one. Right now, she will only wear Buzz Woody. They are magic.


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