Skip to main content

band-aid addict

Owen is addicted to Band-aids.
Diego and Spiderman are his favorites but he has been known to sport: Mickey, Big Bird, Camo and even Dora in a pinch.
He will even wear the "flesh" colored ones. ( Although I do wonder if anyone actually has flesh that color?). It isn't just the sticker or cartoon figure...but O seems to think they have magical powers. They can make almost any ow-ie better.
It can be a bug bite, a bruise or a scratch or an ow-ie that doesn't even leave a mark. Blood or no blood. I think he could break his arm and would still ask for a band-aid. Even if the wound doesn't hurt anymore or is a week old....he can still cry until the band-aid is firmly attached.
My son is also very feng shui and must have balance. If one knee has a band-aid, so must the other. He displays them proudly and will gladly show strangers his band-aids and tell them about what they are covering up ( if anything).

I wonder when we grow out of this? When did band-aids stop fixings our hurts? When did we start trying so desperately to hide them? When we were little we ran around showing off our scrapes and scars. Even the minor ones. Even the imagined ones. Sometimes even the internal ones. And usually someone was there to kiss them and bind our wounds. Now most of us try to hide our hurts and ache even more that no one seems to notice or care. We wonder why it doesn't get any better. We still want, exactly what O does. To be held and kissed and taken care of. We have a Father who doesn't think we are too big for this. He might even have a spiderman band-aid or two.

Comments

Alyssa said…
Great connection! I loved this! And FYI, some of us are actually lighter than the so named "flesh-colored" bandages. :)

Popular posts from this blog

Either/Or

Recently I met an old friend for lunch. He was actually my senior high prom date. He wasn’t just my prom date, but had been my friend for a good part of high school. And our group has mostly stayed in touch through the years. But not him. Even though we live in the same big metroplex, I hadn’t seen him in almost 15 years. At prom, He even won some kind of senior superlative, Mr. BHS or something like that. In other words, he was well-liked, nice, funny and smart. And it helped that he drove a Camero. We didn’t break up or have a falling out. He kind of just disappeared. And not just from me, but from everyone. And I had looked for him. At class reunions. On myspace. And eventually, only about a year ago, he finally showed up on facebook. When he did, I suggested we get together for dinner or something. And he responded with a really awkward email. Explaining that he was gay. Warning me. Trying to let me out of my dinner invitation if I wanted. And I already knew this. Possibly I had ev...

me too

I used to never question God. It was just part of the way things were. Just like I believed in Santa and the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny. And eventually I grew up and started to wonder. I always believed, But occasionally I started to wonder if he was always good. If he really loved me. Singular me rather than an all inclusive version. That he was paying attention. That my prayers mattered.` And I didn’t know that I should play by the rules. That questioning these outloud things in a Bible study or Sunday School class Will get you bumped to the top of the prayer list. Because I know. But sometimes I wonder. And I didn’t need their scripture memory verses or their books or their prayers. (but I guess prayers never hurt) And I was just hoping for someone else to say “me too”. And, Jason Boyett’s book, O Me of Little Faith Is one great big “me too” And like most books I like he asks a whole lot more questions than he answers. Hard ones. Ones without real answers. Ones that make me wa...

Of course I did.

Today I am supposed to be doing my last installment in five for ten and write about "yes". And this is not at all the post I intended. But life sometimes doesn't take the turns we want it to. And yesterday a teacher friend of mine called and told me about a memorial service for one of my former studetns and asked if maybe I would consider saying something. And keep in mind, that as a teacher, I pretty much speak to groups of people all day for a living. But. If I have to say something serious and heartfealt, even to an audience of one, I usually get all mumbly and stare at my shoes and forget what I was going to say. Even though I love this kid....and will miss him terribly I have a hard time imaging myslef on stage talking to an auditorium filled with grief stricken friends and family. I texted another friend about my reservations. And she knows all too well my mumbly shoe staring state. And she replied, "Did you say yes?" Did which I typed back. "of cour...