In which Good Sense wins.

Lately Adrian has taken to exploring the drawers in the bathroom under the sink. I've already had to move my drawer full of essential bathroom goodies (make up, waxing strips, sunglasses with rhinestones) into the bedroom because I'd rather suffer the inconvenience than baby-proof the bathroom. Also, he still feels the need to follow me into the bathroom and I need something to distract him from the toilet paper and flush-handle. So, on occasion when his toys have lost their luster, we wander down the hall to the bathroom where we play the game: hand things to Mommy. He opens a drawer, picks an item at random and hands it to me. I say 'thank you'. Repeat until drawer is empty.
This morning, we wandered into the bathroom opened the drawer full of band-aids and medical tape, opened a box of band-aids and put every.single.one.on.the.floor. Then he picked up each band-aid, examined it carefully, and placed it either in the box or in the drawer. I'm not sure what his criteria for placement was, but he was picking up his own mess! And enjoying it! Half way through, he discovered a band-aid of smaller size nestled in the box with the standards and handed it to me, puzzled. I took the band-aid in my hand, separated the pull-tabs, and had a flash back to 1984: I was sitting on the floor of my parents bathroom, opening an entire box of band-aids, one by one, and placing them upon my skin until I ran out of empty space.
I slid the tiny band aid into my pocket and declared "all gone".
Disaster.
Narrowly averted.