Folks, I just had a 20 minute argument with Paige about Band-aids.
Yes, you read that right. Freaking Band-aids.
Let me back up. Those of you who know Paige know that her reaction to pain of any sort is to scream. Loudly. Like, at-the-top-of-her-lungs-loudly. We often say that we’re never sure if she’s stubbed her toe or lost a limb … the reaction would be the same. In fact, I may or may not have said to her once upon a time, “Listen! You are only allowed to yell like that if someone is trying to steal you from us! I mean it!”
Obviously, that worked well.
So Paigers came out to help me water the flowers after “quiet time” today. She LOVES to help me work in the yard and garden, and it’s really pretty great to have her company. (Let’s be honest, if I’m out there by myself I usually have the theme song for “Bubble Guppies” or some Daniel Tiger advice/song stuck in my head anyway.) It’s fun to have her out there chatting away with me, playing pretend and asking me lots of questions. (The girl is a sponge, and I worry that I’m going to run out of answers before she starts Kindergarten.)
So, today she was helping me “rake” (we weren’t actually raking anything, but it’s a light enough tool for her to hold), when she tripped over a bump on our brick walkway.
Sidenote to her Daddy reading this: IT’S BEEN SEVEN YEARS!!! FIX THE FREAKING BUMP IN THE SIDEWALK ALREADY!!! Please. Thank you.
As you can imagine, summertime = shorts, which in turn = skinned knees. The screaming began, and I ran to pick her up. I’m not going to lie, her knees looked pretty gross. So we went inside, I cleaned her up, and she got to have a cup of juice and the iPad on the porch to recover while I finished the flowers. I knew better than to bring up any sort of medicine or bandages at this point – it always sends her into a tailspin.
Bedtime tonight, however, was another story. Her little knees were still bleeding and I know they hurt from being washed in the shower, so medicine and Band-aids were non-negotiable (the ‘medicine’ is Neosporin with pain reliever – if you are not familiar with this, mommies, get familiar. It truly does help with the pain – I’m clumsy and have had to use it multiple times on myself). So, the medicine went on, and I brought out the Band-aids.
Cue the hysteria.
And, no, that is actually not an overstatement on her reaction. She was rolling around on the floor, crying hysterically and screaming at the top of her lungs.
For 20 minutes.
I’m pretty sure that her phobia of Band-aids stems from when she was little. She would get shots and the awesome nurses at her pediatrician’s office had the Band-aids on before she even realized what happened. But I’ve come to realize that she ended up connecting the pain with the Band-aid instead of the shot. While most kids her age are stealing Band-aids out of the cabinet to decorate their bodies, I can’t remember the last time I put one on Paige.
Enough is enough. I didn’t want to clean up bloody pants and sheets, I knew that having them on overnight with the medicine would make a huge difference by morning, and at some point she’s got to get over this. I mean, a life without Band-aids? For a girl who actually would rather wear her shoes on the wrong feet and is basically blind without her glasses (and is already missing a tooth!)? I don’t think that’s possible.
She is now in bed, and I told her that if she still feels the same way about them in the morning, she never has to wear them again.
Wish me luck. Or else someone’s going to have to come unload all these Band-aids I have stockpiled.