I chuckle at the illusion, at the simplicity of her complete faith in the trusty Band-Aid
There’s something so entertaining about watching her run to the designated bathroom drawer each time she acquires a slight boo-boo, fixated on the one solution to her pain. I particularly love it when a Band-Aid perches atop her frizzy curls, almost a full inch from the supposed boo-boo on her head, its healing powers still intact.
If someone offends her, it’s the Band-Aid she seeks for reassurance and safety. If she’s scared, the Band-Aid will of course fix all.
