Commitment

Yesterday, Tennyson accidentally scraped his arm on his dresser drawer and needed a band aid. Sanders, who is obsessed with band aids and had witnessed the whole scenario, insisted that he also needed one.

When I reminded him that we only get band aids when we are hurt, he promptly got up, walked over to the dresser, and tried to recreate Tennyson's accident.

It was hilarious and odd to watch a two year old purposely try to hurt himself, but not enough that it would actually hurt, all because he wanted a band aid. He would barely touch the dresser on the part of the drawer that hurt his brother, turn to make sure I'd seen the whole thing, and begin fake crying as he gingerly craddled his arm to prove getting a band aid was no longer simply a want. It was a need.

Thankfully, he wasn't any good at mimicking what happened and I was not easily swayed. Deterred, but not defeated, by my laughter he instead turned his efforts to finding an old wound that had scabbed over and convincing me it was still tragic enough to require the medical assitannce of a band aid. After scouring his whole body for five minutes and trying to pass off freckles as wounds, he finally found one, barely there, scab.

At that point I figured he'd earned a band aid just through sheer commitment to the idea and the fact that he was at least using a legit owie in his persuasion now. So I put a band aid on the fading sore.

10 minutes later the temptation was too great and the coveted bands aid was peeled off and reapplied so many times that it lost the ability to stick and was thrown away.

Crazy kid. I'm going to have to watch myself with this one.....me and insurance companies.

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