Wear the Mickey Bandaid


I shouldn’t be allowed to use knives or sharp utensils. But we won’t go there today. That’s a story for another day when I tell you about almost chopping off the middle finger of my left hand because I was trying to be Rachel Ray with avocado and a steak knife. Here’s a free tip: avocado seeds after being freshly open are slippery and trying to remove said avocado seed with a steak knife in a stabbing motion while holding the freshly cut avocado will NOT end as the cooking shows. It’s more like an episode from Dexter. 

Ok, I kind of went there, what were we talking about, ah yes! Mickey Mouse Band-Aids.

So, in true Melissa fashion, I was cooking last night and using a slicer to make homemade sweet potato chips. You can see where this story is headed, right? I almost sliced off a piece of my thumb tip. My 3-year-old noticed his mom wasn’t in the highest spirits when he runs into the kitchen from the living room,

“What’s wrong, mommy? Are woo ok?” 

“Well, son, not really, but I have to keep it together because it’s just you and me tonight while dad is working late. I’m trying to get dinner done because your Grammie and PawPaw are coming over to eat with us, and I need to get you fed and in the bath and bed at a decent hour, and I’m not really sure how badly I just hurt myself!”

But of course, I didn’t say any of that. I just took a depth breath, and rather harshly, I said to this tiny, concerned human, “yeah, I’m ok.” 

This child didn’t leave my side. As much as I wanted him to at that moment, he didn’t. Even though I was rather short and, well, kind of mean, he just kept asking if I was ok. 

“Is it bweeding, mommy?” 

“Why are you bweeding, mommy?”

“Are woo ok?”

“Woo need a Band-Aid?”

“Do woo have a Woody or PawPatrol Band-Aid?”

“Why you not have a Woody Band-Aid, mommy?”

“I think have one, woo can hab it!” 

Y’all, I love this child with more than I can express in words or actions. He is the rainbow baby that I had prayed for all my life (seriously, I can’t remember a time I wasn’t dreaming about or thinking about having a baby when I grew up). But in this moment of pain and wanting to be in control, I was not kind to him. I was a rude, selfish human and all he wanted to do was help. 

He offered the best that his 3-year-old self could provide, a Woody Band-Aid! He knew if I could just get a Woody Band-Aid or a PawPatrol Band-Aid it would fix it and make me feel better. He never stopped loving me through this painful situation. I mean, it didn’t last more than a few minutes, and it wasn’t anything that a Band-Aid couldn’t fix, but even a few minutes is a long time for a toddler! And he didn’t waver. He was kind and unselfish, the best he knew how. 

At the moment, I didn’t see it. I didn’t see his sweet, caring heart. In the moment I was annoyed and wanted him to go play so I could just deal! I told him I didn’t need his Woody Band-Aid and that I had one, and I was fine.

And he just said, “Ok, mommy.” 

Still, in the same sweet manner, he endured.

Replaying this, and writing it out, hurts my mommy heart! But it dawned on me this morning. I was putting on a new Band-Aid, and there he was again,

“What woo doing, mommy?”

“I’m taking off my Band-Aid to put a new one on. Remember, mommy, cut her thumb last night.” 

“Oh, woo need a new Band-Aid?” 

“Yep, buddy. I need a new Band-Aid.” 

And then I saw them, the box of Mickey Mouse Band-Aids I intentionally bought about a year ago. The ones I bought because I had a two-year-old boy and knew there would be impending ouchies. I saw these Band-Aids and thought and just knew that Mickey Band-Aids would work much better to mend any boo-boo my baby boy might encounter. 

My heart sank. I looked at that sweet boy’s face and grabbed a Mickey Band-Aid. 

He beamed, “Mommy! Woo have Mickey Band-Aids!”

Do I feel ridiculous at work with a Mickey Mouse Band-Aid on my thumb for everyone to see? Yeah, a little bit. But do I think about my precious boy every time I see or feel that Mickey Band-Aid? You. Better. Believe. It.

Wear the Mickey Band-Aid, Mommas! It’s true; they really do work better to heal boo-boos! ?