~Injured Conversations~

After playing outside while I did yardwork...

Eamon:  "Mom, can I have a band-aid?"

Me:  <absently>  "Um, I guess... Wait!  Don't you have one on already?"

Eamon:  "But it's coming off."

Me:  "It looks fine to me."

Eamon:  "I can prove it's bleeding."

Me:  "Why would you need to prove that it's bleeding."

Eamon:  <pulls the band-aid half-way off>  "See? Blood!"

Me:  <squinting> "Where?!  I see a tiny red mark like maybe you scraped it a little bit."

Eamon:  <puts his knee in my face and triumphantly points to tiny brownish smudge on the band-aid itself>  "See?!  So can I have a band-aid?"

Me:  "No!  You may have squeezed one drop of blood out of that tiny scrape but it's obviously NOT bleeding now so that would be a waste of a band-aid."

Eamon:  *sigh*

Comes upstairs a little bit later with a smile on his face and I see this...

Eamon's homemade band-aid made from the finest, 

most antibacterial toilet paper and scotch tape that money can buy!

Eamon:  "Mom, can I have the crutches?"

Me:  "Aaaaarrgh!"