It doesn’t surprise me that Erin is so masterful with makeup. After all, she’d been fascinated with it since she was a chubby, flaxen-haired toddler.
When Erin was three, I became pregnant with her sister, and to my dismay, she gave up her daily naps just about the time first trimester fatigue set in. Some days, I desperately needed a nap after lunch, but I also needed to keep an eye on my active little girl. I found a happy solution when I discovered that Erin loved to“make Mommy pretty”with makeup.
As I rested in the recliner, which put me at the perfect level for Erin to reach me, she’d brush and play with my hair and practice putting makeup on me. I almost felt guilty, it felt so good to be pampered like that. As long as she was right there, touching me, I could rest—but the instant she wandered off, my internal alarm woke me right up.
One day as I dozed in the chair while Erin applied her magic, I was startled awake by our dog’s barking. I got up and, looking out the window, saw the UPS truck lumbering, into our driveway. Always happy to receive a delivery, I went to the door and met the brown-suited man carrying my package.
I greeted him and made small talk, as usual, while he presented the form for my signature. He kept giving me the strangest look. One minute, he seemed afraid of me, and the next, I was sure he was suppressing laughter. When he didn’t participate in the normal, “Nice weather we’re having, ” conversation, I got a little offended. One would think the employer would make certain drivers were at least courteous4 and had decent people skills. This guy acted like he couldn’t wait to get away.
Only after he was well on his way down the road did I happen to pass by a mirror. I screamed and then broke into hysterical laughter. Erin had outdone herself.
My shoulder-length hair was all brushed to one side and faste