Sticks and Stones
There are a few fundamentals of life as far as three-year old Valerian is aware. Don't touch the stove and be in bed before eight are two such examples. Yet one of his least favourites is the knowledge that searching for fossils in the backyard will inevitably lead to bumps, bruises and even a few cuts. A three year old's motor skills are still developing after all, and a bit too much sugar at times doesn't help either. And grazes mean one thing-plastiscab. That nasty feeling, nasty smelling liquid. Leave it on long enough and it becomes part of you. But that can't happen. It's time to take it off.
Valerian stares at plastiscab cast #579-a mark of honour as a career archaeologist. He knows he should have mummy or grandpa Ailin look at it, but they always take it off too slow. Something about re-opening the wound. Well, Valerian's not having any of that. Quick and easy, just like what mummy once said about daddy on Tyrador IX...whatever that means. Either way, Valerian holds his breath and pulls. No more running to mummy. No more drawn out torture. No more...oh crap.
The wound's re-opened.
A/N
Always take off band-aids slowly myself. I find pain mitigation is far more effective than trying to escape it outright. Guess it's a good thing that plastiscab won't be invented for another four centuries. ;)