"You've got a zit, go pop it." Thomas commanded my 11 year-old at the breakfast table this morning. He perked up right away. "A zit? No I don't, where?" Thomas pointed out the offending pustule, and big L was incandescent with glee. 
"A zit! My first one! It's my man mark!" He refused to pop it. He intended to wear it as a badge of honor forever. 
Thomas finally convinced him that he really did need to pop it, and all kinds of gross discussion ensued. I tried to tune out their talk of how long to keep and what to do with the pus. I have to pick my battles, you know. When the actual popping time came, I was ready. 
First the pin. Then the squeeze. 
No, not like that, there's a right way and a wrong way to do things. 
Yep, you've got it. Welcome to the adolescent world, my son.
What I Learned...
4 years ago
4 comments:
Gross.
Eeewww! I love how that post is lined up right next to the pic of him as "My Sweet Prince"--How charming is that? What a juxtaposition!
Since the lady of the band did not want to mention some of the ideas we came up with of keeping the zit fodder I though I would add it on here. Big L's idea was to keep it in a jar, along with any future zit fodder as a memoir to his teenage years.
Adolescent boys...there's nothing like it!
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