SHOWING ME YOUR BANDAID
Dear Brooklyn,
Today you cut your finger.
A glass magnet fell off the fridge and you were playing with it.
It must not have hurt because you didn't say anything.
By the time I noticed it you had blood all over your hands and crayons.
I cleaned you up, wrestled you down and smacked a bandaid on our finger.
At first you were intrigued. Then you were mad that you couldn't get it off.
I'm fairly certain you spent at least half of your three hour nap getting the bandaid off and playing with it.
It's probably a good thing you are a girly girl and we rarely have to do the whole bandaid thing.
Maybe if we bought sparkly pink bandaids you would leave them on.
Or at least be entertained during naptime longer.
Sincerely, Lori
