"Ow, Mommy, I have a bleed!!!" Is what I hear from the backyard. I lean towards a window and look outside. My two-year-old is pouring forth the drama over a bloodless scrape. A performance he has learned from his older brother, and thinks he has wittingly perfected. "A bleed", of course, is a boo-boo. Apparently, if you bleed, even the littlest bit, the world is over. However, if you apply a bandaid to it, the pain is gone and the world has been saved once again!
Depending upon my mood are the bandaids given out. If I'm extra cranky (that's crankier than usual) I will tell my poor children to move on with their day, bandaids don't make the pain go away and "I told you so..." regarding whatever act that caused them to get a bleed. If my meds are working correctly, my children will get a whole box of bandaids applied all over their bodies. In addition to those, the husband will decorate medical tape with skulls and crossbones. And if we've been drinking heavily, they get to paint and color on their bodies all they want. 
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