“Good night. Can Mommy have a kussie?”
“NO Mommy! Your kussies are gross!”
“And why are my kisses gross?”
“Because you have on lipstick!”
“What? I’m not wearing lipstick.” This is usually when my four-year-old son will touch my upper lip, which is significantly darker than my lower lip.
“See? You have on purple lipstick! That’s why your kussies are gross. I don’t like lipstick.”
A version of this exchange goes down every night around bedtime. I’ve pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I’ll be stealing kisses until my son decides that I’m not lying about my lipstick–or rather, my lack thereof. But then! This conversation happened today:
“What did you do in Kindergarten today?”
“Lots! First I ate lunch, and then we went outside and I played with my friend Jethro. Oh and Emma kissed me again.”
“And Stella, too.”
“Um…excuse me? And where did these girls kiss you?” I asked, peeping his grin in the rearview mirror.
“Show me!” (I might have slammed the breaks if we weren’t already stopped at a traffic light.)
“Here,” he pointed first at one cheek, then the other. “And here.”
“Sweetpeezy, I think you’re a little young for kissing. I’m not sure how I feel about this.”
“Oh, it’s fine Mommy. I like when girls kiss me.”
I knew this day was coming, but I really thought I had more time. And shouldn’t I be insulted? I think so!