A Short Treatise On A Sticky Subject

Today I had occasion to need an adhesive bandage. Many people call these “Band-Aids” which is, of course, incorrect. That name is a brand name, not the generic nom-de-booboo-cover. But I did need one, having managed to get a spot of an infection on a finger. So, it’s off to the medicine cabinet in search of a covering for the wound.

I know I’ve mentioned this before, but I have relatively young children around the house. They are no longer toddlers, so they are past the recreational bandaging stage. That would be when the little tykes discover the joys of sticking a bandage over an imaginary booboo. Moms everywhere indulge this little attention getting device by slapping one over a completely fictitious wound. Or one that, while it actually exists, is no more than three or four microns across. At the deep end, so to speak. But this leads to the big problem of modern American life. That is, there is never a bandage, Band-Aid brand or otherwise, around when you really need one. And I mean never.

Smart parents learn early that there are two basic types of adhesive bandages, regardless of brand name. They are the “irremovable” and the “stick-proof” types. The irremovable type can take as long as twenty years to work loose on its own. Attempts to remove the bandage before then will – inevitably – involve loss of hair, skin or in extreme cases actual bone as well as the bandage. The stick-proof type, on the other hand, is manufactured with no actual adhesive whatsoever. It simply will not stay in one place for anything longer than a nanosecond. A harsh look will send it scurrying for the floor.

So savvy parents figure out that while they might have to indulge the little beggars when they demand something be stuck across their latest fictional mishap, they darn well better keep a secret stash of the good stuff around. A sort of a hedge fund against the inevitable real need, if you will. A stock of the stick-proof variety for fictional wounds and the real bandages held in reserve. This leads to yet another problem later in life. You see, the children figure out fairly quickly that there actually are some bandages hidden away even if Mommy says there aren’t. And when they get older, they find them.

They band together and form search teams to accomplish this. They will root through every cabinet, drawer, cupboard, shoe box or envelope in the house. They will even invert shoes and shake them to see if bandages fall out. They’ll invert and shake the pets if necessary. But they will find and use every bandage in the house.

Which is what I found had happened tonight. I went to get a bandage and there were only some of the stick-proof variety left over from when the kids were smaller. Quite dusty and not at all improved in actual adhesive quality by virtue of aging. All of the secret stashes had been looted as completely as an Egyptian tomb. Even the pets. And there I was placing a stick-proof bandage on my finger and securing it with duct tape.

If they ever realize I hide that in my underwear drawer, I’m doomed.

Other Links to this Post

1. The Anchoress » Rounding up Jamil, Band-aids and more — Friday, 5 January , 2007 @ 4:56 pm