Band-aid

"Experience is the best teacher", they say. Last weekend, when we were just getting out of the house, Inigo scraped his knee on the pavement just outside our house. As it was just a scrape, it was not anything deep so we felt no need to be alarmed. In the car, I just cleansed it with a moist towel and applied some medicine. When we got back in the house, I took him to bath and washed the wound altogether. I've asked him several times if it was painful and he said it wasn't. Brave boy, I thought.

I remember that I too had scraped my knees several times in my childhood. The cleansing part was always a torture but as days passed, I kinda get excited watching it heal and finally picking on the dried skin. Eww. It's so funny and gross now that I think about it.

My son was exactly the opposite though. He went nuts over his wound on the second day and resisted when  I washed it or applied medicine on it. At bath time, he screamed for me to blow his wound the whole time I washed him. So I had to keep blowing until he gets out of the bathroom, dried and dressed up. Oh, and he'd always ask to wear pants, the long kind, to cover his wound. He wouldn't let me put a band-aid on it neither. LAst night, I put on a slightly short pajamas on him and his wound kept on peeking. He'd pull his pants down again and again just to hide the wound. I had to hide my giggle. I guess he was just not used to having a dark spot on his knee and finds it ugly to look at. Whenever I ask him if he has a booboo under his pants, he'd just say "No!" and pretend to laugh. He's still in denial. And I thought it wasn't until three years old that toddlers get weird.