Claire's bedroom door was slightly ajar. That's stage, she thought. She always kept her door closed. Curious as to why it would be open, she peered inside to find her four year-old son applying her blush to his chubby cheeks. "Peter!" she shouted and the little boy slowly turned around to face her.
It was almost comical, in a kids do the darndest things kind of way. Sparkly, blue eye shadow not only adorned his eyelids, but all the way past his eyebrows. The brightest, reddest shade of lipstick she owned surrounded his mouth, but there was hardly a trace of it on his actual lips. In all honesty, it was pretty adorable.
But Claire chose to ignore the adorableness and raised her voice. "What has Mommy told you about playing with her make-up table?"
Peter was crying now, tears dirtied by mascara running down his small face. "I'm sorry, Mama," he choked out between sobs. "I...I just wanted to be pretty, Mama. L-like you."
Claire smiled despite herself and bent down to eye-level with her son. "Baby," she said as she smoothed Peter's hair, "boys aren't supposed to be pretty. Boys are supposed to be handsome." Peter considered this new piece of information and nodded. "And do you know who's the most handsome boy in the whole world?"
Peter grinned, obviously already knowing what the answer. "Who, Mama?"
She tapped his nose playfully. "My little Peter, that's who." He giggled as she scooped him up in her arms. "And he looks much more handsome when he doesn't have all of that silly make-up on. Let's get you cleaned up." She carried him into the bathroom, where they laughed some more and the last of the pink blush was washed away.