Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Just Rub ChapStick On It

Kids just inspire little stories like this.

Me: 10:50 pm. Sleeping.

Little One: I have a splinter in my lip. Well, above my lip.

Me: How in the heck did you get that?

Little One: Look at it. (Turns on light.)

Me:  Blinded. Honey, I can’t see a thing.

Little One:  It’s right here. Points at the space above her top lip and below her nose.

Me: Baby, I can’t see anything. Literally, I can’t see anything. Can we look at it in the morning?

Little One:  It feels like a kiwi hair or a cactus prickle. She’s now looking at it with a flashlight by my full-mirrored closet doors (they were there when I bought the place), blinding me even more.

Me: What were you doing with a kiwi? (We don’t have cactus in the house anywhere).

Little One:  I didn’t eat a kiwi.

Me:  Delirious. Maybe it’s an ingrown hair? Put some ChapStick on it.

Little One:  No. It’s a splinter. It’s not on my lips. Pointing again.

Me:  My eyes are so squinchy still from the light. I know, Baby. You can still rub ChapStick there. It’s clear and no one will see it. You’re supposed to be in bed anyway.

Little One:  Drudges off with her flashlight. And, her splinter.

Next Morning
Me:  How’s your splinter?

Little One:  Rubbing her upper lip with that, ‘Oh yea, I had a splinter there,’ sort of look. It’s gone.

Me:  Did you put ChapStick on it?

Little One:  Uh huh.
Me:  Nodding.

ChapStick. Not just good for lips and lesbians. Good for delirious-moms-in-the-middle-of-the-night-first-aid-moments.

ChapStick. The wonder stick. Remember my other blog that featured it?


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