Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Like Mother, Like Son

Speaking of makeup...

Not only did I wear makeup this past weekend. I also painted my nails, both fingers and toes.

Apparently, it's been so long since I've painted any nails that my polish had congealed. So I wore my daughter's plum passion.

As soon as she saw me rooting through her polish stash, she decided to paint her nails too.

Just as I was about to put lunch on the table, my son noticed our nails and asked, "Can I paint my nails?"

Luckily, I didn't have to make the moral decision about whether or not to let my son have plum passion fingernails. I just said, "Well, lunch is ready, buddy," and he dropped the subject.

I could tell he was fascinated though. He kept rubbing my fingernails every chance he got. But he never said another word.

On Sunday morning, my daughter knocked on our door and woke me up before 7 a.m.

"Mommy," she said. "We were playing with my makeup and I washed mine off but my brother still has his on."

"Fine," I grumbled. I mean, how bad could it be? Certainly not as bad as the time he appeared naked and covered with body glitter from head to toe. "I'll be there in a minute."

When I finally dragged my ass out of bed, I was greeted by a mini Spiderman. He was wearing his Spiderman pajamas with web wings, and he had accessorized with full (and I do mean full) body makeup. Everywhere that wasn't covered by pajamas was covered by red makeup.

"Oh my god!" I couldn't help by exclaim. "What did you do?"

There was red makeup on the carpets, red makeup on every door handle, and red makeup smeared along door jams and walls.

I needed a bucket of cold cream to dip him in.

I was my usual perky morning self, so I never even thought to ask them where the makeup came from or why they decided they would play with it. I just cleaned up the mess and assumed that he was playing superhero.

It wasn't until my daughter's soccer game that afternoon that my husband asked my son, "How could you let your sister do that to you?"

"Ha!" I scoffed. "You think it was her idea. He probably talked her into it."

"Is that true?" he asked my son.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Why would you want to put on all that makeup, buddy?"

"Because I wanted to be *mumble* like Mommy and my sister," he replied.

I could have sworn he said, "Because I wanted to be sexy like Mommy and my sister," which just about gave me a coronary.

"What did you just say?"

"Because I wanted to be fancy like you and my sister," he repeated.

He was jealous. How cute is that?

My husband said, "Boys don't need makeup to be fancy, buddy. You're handsome just as you are."

"Girls don't need makeup either, Daddy," I quickly corrected.

He cocked his head at me, "Well..."

So I backhanded him across the shoulder.

Which made my son smack him one too. After his lecture about not hitting (do as I say not as I do) the two of them were wrestling.

"You're all boy, aren't you?" my husband remarked to my son.

Yeah. Uh huh. Because wrestling is just about the most masculine thing two men can do together.

Now I'm thinking...hmmm...what do you think should be the theme of my son's coming out party.

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