Infallible

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So I know I’ve been away a bit lately.

I’ve missed a few weeks of parenting.

But surely I didn’t miss the entire sweet kid stage and skip straight to sneaky, attitude riddled tween?

Miss7 went to school on Thursday sporting lipstick.

Not lip gloss.

Lipstick.

I’ve caught her wearing her colour-free, sickly strawberry scented kiddy lip balm to school before.

We’ve had the discussion about how it’s not allowed, and the threat of earning a "Negative Nelly" Class Dojo from her teacher has always had her scrubbing it off her face in a flash.

Somewhere between “But Mummy I love the strawberry smell, it tickles my nose!” and my getting home a week ago, she’s morphed into a Loreal Infallible 16 hour lip colour wearing ball of angst and attitude.

You see, apparently some kids got the OK to wear LIP BALM or CHAPSTICK to school, for cracked lips (‘tis the season after all – wintery cold and flu and the like).

So Miss7 went and raided her extensive collection of kiddy crap make up and found one of #1Nana’s old near empty hand-me-downs and donned a liberal layer of Loreal Infallible in Addictive Plum.

Infallible.

For 16 hours.

No matter how much someone attempts to, say, spit and polish furiously (old school, yo), after pulling up outside school and only just noticing the Addictive Plum over her lips. And one cheek. And her chin.

Clearly she’s inherited her mother’s co-ordination (or lack thereof), on account of the near full-face application.

Let me tell you, it is INFALLIBLE by name, and INFALLIBLE by nature….

And so after a good couple of minutes furiously spitting and polishing and scrubbing, I had only succeeded in turning the area around her mouth a light pink colour from all the scrubbing.  Which matched quite nicely with the Addictive Plum.

I had to explain to my 7 year old’s teacher that she was, in fact, sporting a full face of lipstick.

That it was the kind that doesn’t come off for 16 hours.

To which Miss7 helpfully piped up with “It’s INFALLIBLE Mummy, Loreal Infallible.  Nana gave it to me”.

I blame #1Nana.

She never gave me any of her fancy pants make up.  I have to buy mine on the cheap overseas, and hope like hell that it’s legit and I don’t get some awful communicable disease from it, convinced it’s the tester sample from a large budget warehouse style department store in the dodgiest back blocks of the dodgiest and most communicable disease ridden place on earth (next time I’ll just Google that and name a place instead of launching into a mega descriptive paragraph).

But that's all besides the point.

I was that parent whose CHILD went to school wearing make up.  The good kind.  The kind that doesn’t come off for 16 hours because it is bloody INFALLIBLE.

I can’t wait to see how she celebrates turning 8 in a few weeks.

Probably table top twirking at McDonalds with a sneaky BYO alco-pop.

I’m kidding. 

That’ll be me. 

She’ll have a happy meal, maybe with lemonade instead of water to celebrate turning the grand old age of 8.