The Jesus Bandaid

Hello friends, it's been a while but I am back. I have no excuse for my absence so don't expect one. Here is a little story from my childhood for you to enjoy.

I can't remember how old I was when the "Jesus band aid" incident occurred, but I was young enough to still think band aids were awesome, but old enough to remember this incident and therefore be scarred for life. I was at home with the babysitter, I can't remember who it was. I have tried to remember her face but it's all blurry in my mind, I must have blocked it out. I was playing and somehow had gotten a little owie on my arm. I remember thinking to myself, "Yes! Now I can have a band aid!" Don't you remember when you were a kid and you would walk down the band aid aisle and see all the wonderful different band aids there were; and you just couldn't wait for the opportunity to get to wear one of those cool band aids? Please tell me I am not the only child who thought this way. Moving on.

So I go bounding to the babysitter to show her my owie and get my well deserved cool band aid. So she takes me in the bathroom and cleans up my little, pretty much insignificant owie and then says something that will forever change my life. "Do you want one of these band aids or a Jesus band aid." Wait a minute, what in the world is  a Jesus band? Those certainly don't sound cool to me. Don't get me wrong, I love Jesus, but my little child mind just couldn't picture a Jesus band aid having anything really cool on it. I mean really, it would probably just have praying hands or maybe sandals, or Jesus' face on it. I'm sorry, but when compared to rainbow brite it just doesn't compare! So I sat and thought for a moment, but I just knew I had to choose the Jesus band aid. I didn't want my babysitter to get mad at me, and I certainly didn't want to upset Jesus that I didn't choose his band aid. "I guess I'll take the Jesus band aid," I said. So she looks at my owie and says, "Okay then, you're all done." Wait a second, what about my band aid? Apparently a Jesus band aid is no band aid at all! It's imaginary or some such nonsense. I sat there in the bathroom feeling tricked and betrayed. I have a genuine flesh wound and I don't even get a band aid for it. I should have chose the rainbow brite or whatever band aid it was. I may have had guilt for not choosing Jesus, but at least I would have had a band aid! And I am sorry, but I don't think Jesus would like his name attached to this kind of trickery. Now I would have to wait until the next time I got hurt to get a band aid and who knew when that would be. My situation was hopeless. And now anytime the word band aid is mentioned I think of the Jesus band aid that was really no band aid at all and I feel the despair all over again.

So my dear friends, please heed my warning and always choose the other band aid, even if it's just a plain old boring beige one.

I think I may need therapy.

Have great day my friends and consider yourself warned.

It's time to do it yourself

My darling son is going to be 5 in October and I have been realizing that it is time for him to start doing things himself. Things like wiping his own bottom, which makes me excited to not have to do anymore. He told me recently that he didn't want to learn to wipe his bottom until he was man. I just looked at him and thought to myself, "if you don't start wiping your own bottom now kid, you won't live to be a man." So this is something we have been working on. We got off on a rocky start. He didn't think wiping was necessary the first time and just pulled up his pants and told me he was all done. I was pleasantly surprised that he didn't even ask for help, until I realized he skipped the whole wiping thing. Back to the bathroom we went. Sometimes my kids really gross me out. The next couple attempts were better and also quite comical, especially when he had toilet paper hanging from his rear and had no idea.

The next thing we have been working on is getting himself dressed and putting his own shoes on. I realized it was time for him to start doing this when I noticed that his 2 year old sister could put her shoes on by herself. This fact didn't seem to bother him much, he would much rather me do it for him. Too bad. This has been going smoother than the whole wiping thing but his style is something that concerns me.

Yes, he picked his own outfit out this morning. At least the legs of his boxer briefs aren't coming out of the tops of his shorts like they usually are.