I am constantly teaching my girls, even my boys about skin care. Julia and Jillian soak it up, love to spend both mornings and nights by my side, washing faces, applying lotion and putting on hand cream. I have opened up some of my "stash" of supplies to them, wanting them to feel at ease using it, hoping it becomes a habit through their teenage years and on through adulthood. Apply a pea sized amount, rub in a circular motion through every crevice, rinse and dry, they have the routine down and can do it on their own without my watchful eye. They never use to much, they always put the products away, and these 5-6 minutes we spend in this daily routine are sweet to me.
Little did I know that someone was feeling left out of the daily facials, someone who loves to apply lotion, someone who always wants to be involved.
I walked out of the room after I had made breakfast this morning and immediately heard screams, screams yelling "no," screams yelling "momma." I ran and am embarrassed to say that a shriek came out of me as I rounded the corner, faced with a little boy who sat with a huge grin on his face applying my favorite hand cream to his beautiful white face. Not the little dabs I had taught but huge spoonfuls with his little index finger, not one scoop but many, the screaming from my girls did not stop him, only added to his excitement and inspired him to carry on for his captivating audience.
The excess was scraped off his face and dumped back into the jar, followed by Jett demanding his hands to be washed to get the rich moisture off of him.