He came running to me to show me his "owie".
Now, by "owie" I don't mean a real, honest-to-goodness injury that would leave a child bleeding and crying. No, this was that tiny-scratch-you-can-barely-see kind of owie. He came running to me... genuinely concerned... wanting kisses and comfort and a solution to this microscopic gaping wound.
I offered a band-aid.
I offered a band-aid knowing that J-man hates band-aids. Always has. Other children might be covered with band-aids from head-to-toe, but J-man wants nothing to do with them. (Note: This is from the kid who did THIS.) But hey... what else could I possibly offer? Dermabond? An ER visit?
So I offered a band-aid. And he said yes. He said yes as he "fake cried" his way to the bathroom with me in search of said band-aid. Being fairly shocked and somewhat skeptical, I found a small band-aid in the first aid kit and offered to put in on the "owie". It was then J-man realized that no, he really didn't want a band-aid because he hates band-aids.
"No ban-ai! No ban-ai!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. He looked perplexed for a moment, and then came up with a fairly genius solution. He said, emphatically, "loves!"
As he chanted this word in an ever-escalating panicked voice, I tried to decipher what he was saying. And then it hit me....
Holy Crap. He wants to wear gloves to protect his 'injured' hand. HOLY CRAP!!
Allow me to note at this time that J-man has never, ever worn gloves. Period. Lucky for me I had just purchased a set of small boys gloves and so we got them and put them on. And he kept the glove on. All day. All night. All the next day. He wore it to eat. He wore it to sleep. He wore it to our Halloween Party and Trick or Treating.
Two days later, the glove is finally gone. And the wound is healed. That, my friends, is alternative medicine.
(Ignore the chunky witch next to J-man)