Band-Aid Bandits

There's a rule in our house that you can't have a Band-Aid unless there is clearly visible blood. Because otherwise? My kids would be plastered with them from head to toe. They seem to think they need to slap one on every bruise, scratch, and mosquito bite ... even on places where there's absolutely nothing ("See, Mommy? I hurt myself right here." *points to blank skin*).

I don't understand the appeal. I mean, they're just plain brown adhesive bandages. They aren't neon-colored, or adorned with Dora or Diego or Mickey Mouse or Scooby Doo. They're not even the awesome-textured rubbery-feeling ones. They're JUST. REGULAR. BROWN. BAND-AIDS.

Not only that, but doesn't it hurt to peel them off any more? When I was little and I'd get a scrape or something, I'd initially be like, "Yay Band-Aid!" and then as soon as it was on, I'd realize with a dreadful sinking feeling that it eventually had to come off. That meant either a quick rip or an agonizingly slow peel, and either way, I hated the process. But my kids don't seem to care, seeing as they'll willingly stick them in places that - even as an adult - I cringe to think about removing them from. (Let's just say this: my children are lucky they don't have pubes yet.)

Anyway, once the dudes started to accept the fact that I wouldn't dole one out for just any old injury, real or imagined, they stopped asking and started sneaking. Despite their position on a high shelf in the linen closet, the Band-Aids keep mysteriously disappearing like there's some kind of emergency trauma facility hidden behind the stacks of towels. And despite the fact that I rarely ever CATCH anyone pilfering said bandages, I spot the stolen goods in the most random of places:

- Wrapped around doorknobs
- Used as nipple covers, in lieu of a shirt
- Holding handmade signs on doors
- Used as a substitute for tape, seeing as they've also somehow managed to waste entire rolls of that
- Wrapped around the dog's tail
- Stuck to the carpet in every. Single. Room.

Because they're apparently so useful for more than just first aid, my jumbo-sized multi-pack of Band-Aids has dwindled to a measly three or four stragglers. I've hidden the last few in an attempt to keep some around for actual bandage-requiring injuries, but I'm sure that in time, those too will be gone; my boys have an uncanny knack for finding things I don't want them to find.*

*And by "things" I mean the stash of candy that I amass when I secretly pick my favorite pieces out of their Halloween buckets, Christmas stockings, Valentine boxes, and Easter baskets. Oh and also certain battery-requiring items that I can't even write about because this is a generally PG-rated blog, if you know what I mean. *cough* 

Anyway.

Let's just hope nobody bleeds.