Mateo had a well-check today and some blood drawn. For some stupid reason, I thought they would magically take his blood and it wouldn't be horrible or traumatizing or anything close to how adults get their blood drawn. I just view him as a baby and therefor, they should take his blood like he is a baby. But, alas, I guess he's not a baby anymore.
So I had to sit with him on my lap and hold him while a nurse held his arm while another nurse drew his blood. Needless to say, I was glad I couldn't see his face.
But, as with most things, he got over it pretty quick.
When we got home, I suggested putting a band aid on his arm and taking off the cotton ball puff taped on with surgical tape. Because I'm sorry, that band aid method is plain stupid.
Mateo must have heard the word "band aid" before because he kept saying "banad, banad" over and over as he followed me into the bathroom. We've never put a band aid on him, and, in fact, I recently purchased a bunch of those cool band aids of cartoon characters and ones with different colors just for this occasion (and I needed to spend my health expense account money, and what better way to do so than buying a bazillion band aids?).
He sat down, and since I didn't remember which cartoon character I had bought, we were both pleasantly surprised to find out I bought a box of Diego band aids. "Diego" is the first character name he's spoken, even though we hardly watched it. That was during the summer. So he knows Diego when he sees him. Somehow. Because we hardly watched him. I still don't get that.
I told him we were going to put it on his arm where it hurts, and he thought that was a fabulous idea until I took off the stupid tape and cotton ball, which hurt him like the dickens, and then he didn't want anything to do with my Diego band aids. After trying to play mind games with him (band aids make hurt feel better! these are magical band aids! etc.), he reached out his hand and presented me his palm.
"If you let me put this on your arm, then I'll give you one to play with," I told him.
He agreed. Until I reached for his arm.
"Okay, if I put this on your palm first, then can I put one on your arm?" I asked.
"Yeaaaaa...," he said and scooted toward me.
I put the band aid on his palm.
"Okay, now let me put this on your arm," I told him.
He wasn't too keen on the idea, and after a slight wrestling match, I got it on. I told him when Daddy came home, he could show it to him and then we'll take it off.
And so, I present to you, Mateo's first band-aid, a band aid on his palm, a palm that isn't even hurt. And yes, he's still got the dang thing on his palm as I type. I've also had to give Diego kisses.
He was so proud of his band-aid, he had to show off his other band-aidless palm, like his palms were something special.
And, well, I have to say they are.