Tristan has had an ugly scab on his forehead for the last week. Yes, you really should not dive into the 2 Ft. end of the pool. Well, last night his daddy and him were wrestling and somehow the scab was torn and the "bo bo" started to bleed. It was pretty bad, and I thought it needed to be cleaned and we should put a new band aid on it. As I grab the supplies, Tristan says "My mimi says that those band aids are too sticky." It's a brand new box, I've never used them and I say "Well, that's all we have, and band aids are supposed to stick Tristan" in my no-non-sense voice. So I smoosh it on his forehead, though he protested, and a little bit of his hair was stuck underneath. Just a little.
Well the next day, Tristan wakes up with dried blood caked underneath the band aid. It looks like I tried to cover up a zombie bite. He couldn't go to school like that, so I explained that I had to rip it off. Tristan has a little thing that he does, which reminds me of a lawyer or a politician. When something bad is about to happen to him, he holds his hands out and says "Just listen to me for a minute." At this point, I'm running late for work, but I can't resist this.
"I told you not to put this band aid on me, and now it's going to hurt!!" I follow through with the good ol' "We can do this the hard way, or the easy way." He chose the hard way...luckily Chubbs is home on vacation, because I'm almost not strong enough to hold him down. He wriggles like a snake! Tristan's screaming, while Chubbs holds him in his lap, I grabbed his legs and arms. And with our powers combined, he ripped the band aid off....and it didn't come off. It's too sticky! Surprise! Surprise! My mom was right! After a long, heart rending 5 seconds, the cause of my good intentions turning sinister was removed (along with some hair, yes we used scissors, we aren't barbaric!) and I owed him a doughnut, with sprinkles.
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