A friend of mine dropped off some things off the other day that she thought the kids might be able to use: some swim suits her girls never got around to wearing (tags still on them and everything), a bunch of fancy hair things, a real (fake) tiara (which Zoë has been wearing pretty much nonstop), and a little container of iridescent purple lip gloss (which Zoë has been applying as often as possible).
Last night before she brushed her teeth she stood on the bathroom stool, admiring her lightly purpled lips in the mirror.
"This isn't like chapstick, you know," she said. "It's like lipstick! See? My lips are kind of purplish."
Evidently she's only ever used clear lip treatments before, which is fine. Because she's five.
"But," she continued, with a saucy eyebrow waggle, "It's transgression lipstick!"
"Uh...what?" I choked.
"You can still see my real lips through it!" Zoë explained. "Transgression!"
"You mean translucent," Benjamin corrected her, with toothpaste foam flying out of his mouth and landing all over creation. "Or transparent."
This story's a keeper. I'll probably tell it at her wedding.