I fought the good fight.

I lost.

It must be some guaranteed stage of child development:  The Band-Aid stage.

It’s that season when kids believe in the magic of the Band-Aid to insta-heal all bumps, bruises, minor aches, pains, and scratches.

I have endured tantrums.

I have given speeches: You don’t need a Band-Aid for any casualty that doesn’t involve an open wound and significant blood loss. 

But really.  Truly.  As a mom, it’s easier just to pop that glorified sticker over the bruise and be done with it rather than arguing unsuccessfully with a two-year-old about proper Band-Aid usage.

Maybe it wasn’t even the Band-Aid my kids needed; I know this.  Perhaps it was the acknowledgement: I see you hurting.  I’m tending to this need.  I’m not going to leave you here aching alone, wounds sore, pain throbbing. 

This is, after all, why Mom-kisses on the tiniest of boo-boos are…