How you know you have a toddler on your hands, number 23: You find yourself plastered in random band-aids.
I remember how I loved band-aids when I was a kid. I lovingly plastered one on the molded plastic tail of my rocking horse, in fact. And apparently, the love is either 1) genetic, and thus has been passed down to my offspring, or 2) universal among all small children.
William not only loves band-aids, but he is obsessed with them. Until yesterday, I kept four or five boxes of various types of band-aids in the top drawer of his bathroom cabinet. We had Sesame Street, neon colors, clear, Finding Nemo waterproof, and Rataouille waterproof. Used to be, he'd open the drawer and look at them, and maybe take one of the boxes out to look at, but that's about it. If he needed one, we always gave him his choice, and he was pretty good about spreading out his choices. Then he started requesting band-aids for his various non-existent boo-boos, which I humored. Most of the time.
But it's gone beyond that now. Way, way beyond that. He has figured out to open the box, pull out a band-aid, take off the plastic wrap, remove the adhesive, and then put the band-aid on himself. All by himself.
As if that wasn't enough of an achievement, he had to share the love. Yesterday, I walked into the computer room and found David looking ruefully at his arm, which was plastered with three purple band-aids. "This is going to hurt," he said, sadly. I turned around and confiscated all the band-aids remaining in the drawer and put them in a basket on top of the vanity which, for now. William can't reach. (He pitched a big old fit at this, as you might expect.)
And today, my son marched into my bathroom with a Sesame Street band-aid, unwrapped and ready to go. He then announced that I needed the band-aid for my boo-boo, and when I said, "No," he was very, how shall I put this, put out. Which is why I woujd up with an Elmo band-aid stuck randomly to my left knee. I have no wound there. But I have a band-aid lovingly applied to it. Which is also why the band-aid is still there, six hours later.