Besides writing newspaper columns – I spend most of my days hanging out in the preschool where I’m hired.
I left decades of spending days with 80-104 year olds to spending my days with four and five year olds. Peculiarly, the needs and nurturing of both cohorts are much the same. I could write an entire series of life lessons based off of what goes on in the confines of that colorful room! It’s not just colorful in color.
The personalities are magnificent! The banter is insightful with conversations ranging from why so-and-so is not longer so-and-so’s best friend (which usually has something to do with the one so-and-so ate their carrots faster at lunch than the other.)
This past week in preschool – stop. Before I tell you more – I need you not to judge. Most of us were probably the same way with the same exact obsession back then – Bandaids! This particular lovely Little arrives most days with at least one Bandaid somewhere adhered to her body. If she doesn’t have a Bandaid, she finds a reason to NEED a Bandaid.
During our first morning tinkle break – she washed her hands.
Of course, one of her fingers had a Bandaid on it. Very whinely I heard her pout with a frown, “Miss Jodi. My Bandaid got wet!”
I told her to go ahead and take the Bandaid off and throw it away because she wasn’t bleeding. Understand though – when you’re a Bandaid obsessed preschooler, it’s important to you to have your Bandaids look proper, dry and as if some serious kind of injury is infecting and gushing under it! A limp Bandaid does not a good, “I’m suffering” look make.
She removed it – then dried her hands. She began walking towards me and all the other little Littles lined up waiting to walk back to the classroom. As she walked towards me – she lifted just the very bottom of her shirt up. Peeking through was not just a normal Bandaid but a huge one! It was approximately 4 inches long by 2.5 inches wide. My eyes got huge! They do that when my adrenaline sky rockets! “Oh my goodness Honey! What happened to you! Please – tell me!”
At this point, I was generally concerned because this truly was a serious, legitimate-looking, medical bandage! She stood before me very distraught. The tears started to flow. Through her loud, long howls she said in her little voice, “When I was born, there was some kind of thurgewy (surgery) and they left a hole in my ‘tumach!” (stomach.)
I said, “Oh. That’s your belly button. I have one too. Let’s get ready to go for breakfast. Do you need a hug?” I gave her a nurturing side hug because when you’re four or five and need a dose of attention and nurture – a hug is better than even the biggest darn Bandaid that even a real doctor could adhere to you!
So today – ask yourself, “Do I need a Bandaid, or do I need a hug?” Her belly button bandage came off soon after because she kept picking at it making sure everyone knew she had it.
Bandaid obsessors love to show off their owies even if they’re psychosymatic. I think she pulled it off because I ruined her “thurgewy” wound story by declaring that I had a belly button on my ‘tumach too.
I’m off to Fargo to buy fun Bandaids. I can’t wait to present them to all the Littles who need an extra dose of hug through a darling Bandaid!
The Blonde on the Prairie is a lover of ND. She is an author and motivational speaker, owner of “Monkey Balls” food truck and Joyologist to the elderly, the disabled and, now, also to children wherever she is needed.
