Noodle Boy is a nickname my son had when he was a tiny guy and I started this blog. His nickname changes all the time. (Don't worry, we keep his real name the same.) He is completely awesome. Read on and see for yourself!

Sunday, January 30, 2011

"Don't panic."

Jon has a love/hate relationship with band-aids.

He doesn't get hurt that often, but by three years old he has had countless shots and just assumes if there's a band-aid in the vicinity it's because there's a shot to be had. The shot is awful but he's usually pretty psyched about the doctor's office band-aids, they have designs on them and we just get the plain ones at home. Then the band-aid is great, but when it's time to take it off he has a melt down because it hurts to yank it off and he gets little welts on his skin. As you can see, it's just a roller coaster of emotions.

Every time we go to the doctor he asks the nurse if he's going to get a band-aid, but what he means is "Am I going to get a shot?" So in an effort to make the visit pleasant the nurse ALWAYS says, "Well sure you can have a band-aid!" Which then sends Jon over the edge thinking he's going to get a shot.

He even has concern about other people's band-aids...

"Mom? You got a shot?"

"No, Honey. I cut my finger"

"Not a shot?"

"Nope."

"Okay, good."


...And their lack of band-aids.


"Oh no! Your band-aid is gone! What happened?!"

"My owie feels better, I don't have one on today."

"But you need it! Let me see!"

"See, not bleeding. I don't need it."

"Hold still, Mommy. I'm going to poke your owie-don't panic."

He's quick, so it turned out I needed a band-aid that day after all.

3 comments:

Reverend Awesome said...

Jon is such a little helper!

For awhile (maybe still) Tori thought the term "weirdo" applied to men at Casey's only. I was sitting in the car once with her and Liss and a guy was staring into the car and I said, (I guess to my nieces?) "What are you looking at, weirdo?!" and I must have made a face and Tori said, "He's a weirdo." immediately after I did and that was all it took.

A month or so later I call her Dad a weirdo. "Dad is not a weirdo! The weirdo is at Casey's" or we'll be driving and she'll say out of nowhere, "Remember that weirdo at Casey's? He was a weirdo!"

This is how quickly I can scar a kid for life. That worries me.

JenB37 said...

Yeah, I worry about that too. Someday Jon will be telling these same stories on his own blog and people will comment things like, "What the hell was wrong with your mom, man?" or, "Thank God you've made it as far in life as you have with that kind of childhood."

Reverend Awesome said...

They'll be like, "Dude, she got puke on your face! And didn't she care about the buddies?! What a weirdo."

Tori will be telling her therapist, "I told her I wanted to drive through the ghetto and she drove me through the ghetto. What was she thinking? I was a child. Why was she taking instructions from a child?"