"What's wrong, Noah? Why do you need a band aid?" I asked him, more intrigued than concerned as I had not heard any whining or crying from him, noises that almost exclusively precede the need for a band aid.
"Daddy has a boo-boo!" Noah responded with deepest concern in his eyes.
"Oh, all right, we'll get a band aid for Daddy's boo-boo." I said, taking one band aid from the box. I followed him into the living room where Daddy was watching the Cowboys game from the floor. He didn't look hurt. He didn't look at us. I saw no need for a band aid, but I enjoy humoring my son and I doubted one band aid would be missed.
"Okay, Noah, where's Daddy's boo-boo?" I asked as we hovered over Stephan's head.
"Right there!" Noah pointed to a blemish on Stephan's forehead. I laughed. Stephan became self conscious, but kindly let Noah and I place a bandage on his pimple and make it all better. Feeling mischievous, I asked Noah if there were any more boo-boos on Daddy. This was the result:
|Yes, they are both wearing The Stand shirts.|
Be blessed, readers!