I was just thinking to myself a little while ago that Amira was already nearly three and a half and had never gotten into my makeup, even though it is mostly right on the counter in the bathroom where she could get it easily. It was so nice that I could trust her not to get into things that didn't belong to her, and how she knew not to touch Mama's things without permission. Evidently, she just wasn't quite old enough yet.

I give you exhibit A:



This was taken after she started wiping it off with the backs of her hands when she saw the look of horror on my face and heard me say "What in heaven's name did you do to yourself?!"

Let me create the scene. I had just gotten off the phone with Rich, and was getting the children ready to get in the car to pick him up from work on the way to Home Group. Amira came around the corner, to the bottom of the stairs, so she could go up and get her shoes, which I wouldn't have noticed because I was gathering my things, but Dominic was talking to her, so I looked up, and saw that face, only with the mashed lipstick all the way out to her cheeks, up to her nose (but not on it) and down to her chin. From the living room, she looked like she was bleeding. If she ever needs to look like someone punched her in the face and bloodied her, we now know how to do it.

The phone rang in the minute or so after I'd gotten off the phone with Rich, so I thought it was him again, and answered Yes in a pretty terse voice. It was the ballet teacher from the school where we are sending Amira. I apologized, and told her that my daughter had just appeared with what was probably lipstick all over her face, and we were trying to get out the door. She sighed and told me that her daughter used to use permanent marker, usually right before she had family portraits taken.

Anyway, I got to Amira, who was hurriedly wiping the lipstick off, and denying everything. The lipstick fell, you see, it wasn't her fault. My first thought was to take a picture, but the camera was in the car, so I marched her to the scene of the crime, found my lipstick and lipbrush on the counter where they normally weren't, the lipbrush had mooshed lipstick halfway up the handle, and the lipstick was pushed far down the tube, there were little streaks of lipstick on the sink and counter. Did I mention that this was not a $5 drugstore lipstick, either, but a department store lipstick, one of the few luxuries I allow myself. She has good taste, at least. Fortunately, it was the old spent tube, the new one was in my purse. This tube was on top of my face stuff in the bathroom, with the dregs in it, and the brush nearby, so I could apply it in the mornings, or before going out. This is how I justify the price of the lipstick, because I use every last bit of it.

Anyway, I asked her if she was trying to make herself into a pretty lady, which she also denied. I told her that if she wanted something sparkly on her face, she needed to ask me first, and let me do it, and that she was not to touch anyone else's things without permission. We then established that because she lied to me, she would have to get a manual attitude adjustment edited because of weird search terms that brought this post up. I made sure she understood that had she told the truth, I still would have been upset, but she would not have been punished.

I had to work really hard not to laugh, though, because I don't want to even think about the therapy bills from her being disciplined while her mother cackled. So, I left the room. I called Rich to let him know why we weren't there yet, and his first question was "Did you get a picture?" I said that I hadn't, but I was on the way to the car to get the camera. I came back and took the picture you see above. I told her I was taking it to show her what she looked like when she played with things she didn't really know about. I washed her face, and we got the adjustment over with, and we went on to Home Group, where she had a great time and had chocolate ice cream afterwards (and didn't have nearly the amount on her face as she did with the lipstick. Chocolate tastes better).

Today, I asked her if she played with my lipstick yesterday. She hesitated a little, and it was clear she wanted to deny, deny, deny, but she said yes in the end, and that she wouldn't do it anymore.

Labels: Family