Shaving

No mirror can offer a truer reflection of oneself than a three year old's observations.

This morning I was shaving my legs when Julia joined me in the bathroom.

Julia: "What are you doing?"
Mom: "Shaving my legs."
Julia: "Why?" (Why, indeed?!)
Mom: "To get rid of the pokey hair so I can have nice, smooth skin."
Julia: "Oh, so you won't be like daddy."
Mom: "Right."

Pause.

Julia: "What is this green?" (with a decided note of disgust)
Mom: "A varicose vein."
Julia: "Why?" (as if I inserted a bumpy green snake into my leg by choice)
What Mom Thinks: "It is yet another cruel torture of multiple pregnancies"
What Mom Says: "Just 'cuz" (an effective answer for her so far, so I'm sticking with it)
Julia: "Oh."

Pause.

Julia: "What is this red?"
Mom: "More vein stuff."
Julia: "Oh."

Pause.

Julia: "What are these holes?"
Mom: "Pores."
Julia: "Oh. What are these brown dots?"
Mom: "Freckles."
Julia: "Oh."

And I thought my legs were still in pretty good shape. Silly me. Well, at least she stopped at the legs and didn't complete a full-body assessment. This time.

I really need to get a lock on the bathroom door.