Scooby Do band aids almost did me in last week.
It was early Saturday morning and art class was in full swing. Pencils were furiously sketching, pastel dust was flying everywhere, and the scent of fresh oil paints on canvas filled the air.
In the midst of all this creativeness, 5 year old Steven approached me with a problem. He was retrieving a piece of tape from the tape dispenser and had cut his finger on the dispenser’s sharp teeth.
Not exactly a bloodbath by any means, but, at age five, this can be cause for great concern.
As Steven bravely fought back his tears, I offered my condolences, apologized on behalf of the tape dispenser, and directed Steven to wash the cut under cool water while I fetched him a bandage.
A Scooby Do bandage.
That’s when things began to get crazy.
As I tended to his wound, 7 year old Hannah approached me and said her arm hurt. When I turned to look, she showed me what appeared to be a scratch; better than 4 days old.
She asked if I could put a Scooby Do bandage on it.
Not wishing to look like I was playing favorites, I granted her wish and gave her a bandage.
Thirty seconds later, another student approached me with an ailment. This time it was a sore thumb- in desperate need of a bandage.
To be honest, a sore thumb hardly constitutes a bandage. But, once again, I found myself in a tight spot. So I gave out another bandage.
Soon, Otto’s Art Academy began looking like a triage unit. I had kids coming from all angles looking to treat “wounds” with the power of Scooby Do bandages!
Head aches, knee pain, tooth aches, old wounds suddenly hurting again, you name it. I was treating the most serious cases first and telling those with the less severe injuries to wait patiently.
It was chaos!
Until finally, one injury brought the whole thing to a ridiculous end.
Through the crowd pushed six year old Kaylen, her hands cupped around her nose and what looked like blood gushing from her fingers.
She said she needed a Scooby Do bandage to fix the problem.
I went pale. This was beyond the healing forces of any mere bandage- Scooby Do or not. With a nervous crackle in my voice, I directed her to the restroom so we could diagnose the problem.
My heart began to race.
She began to giggle.
As she pulled her hands away, she was quick to notify me that what I though was blood was actually red water color paint.
Good one. Add another gray hair to the collection.
Once I regained my composure and let go of the terrifying thoughts that were racing through my brain (like recalling first aid procedures, rushing a student to the hospital, calling the parents and notifying them that their child burst into a pool of blood in art class), I took a deep breath, sighed, and gave Kaylen a Scooby Do bandage for her efforts.
Why not? After all, I believe she had earned it.
And so, in the end, I have learned another valuable life lesson in art class.
It’s back to plain bandages now, and all is at peace.
