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.
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.
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?|