Plakstick

Kyla loves lip balm; chap stick; plak-stik, if you will.  From the moment she first laid eyes on that shiny, little, colorful tube, given to Mommy for Christmas almost a full year ago, she knew it had to be hers.  And so the obsession began...

"I hab dat?"  Sure, why not?

Why not?  Because carefully applying it on and around her lips would soon turn into painting her hand.  And that would lead to an interest in putting her finger IN it, then digging it out with her fingernail.  Then she would discover that by twisting the bottom, she could make it grow longer and longer.  At which point she would then try to shove the lid on it and finally declare "it broked."  Which, of course, ended badly when I told her that I couldn't fix it.

Needless to say, that did not last long.  However, her love of lip balm did.  On occasion, she has been allowed to use it, carefully supervised, with a minor mishap here and there.  Like the Burt's Bees that got washed and dried, but thankfully emerged fully intact.

With the dry and oh-so-cold weather we have been having, though, she really does need it.  She has inherited my dry lips.  So under close watch, we are allowing some independent use of lip balm again.  She loves it. 

And yesterday, she told me, "I put on my plakstick so now I can kiss ever'body."