Corrupting the Young

My niece is over. Without her parents. 

Good. It's better this way.  

She asks me if I can put on some makeup on her—she's hoping she'll get the part of kallah in the camp mock wedding. She's 7.

"Sure, Babycakes." 

I guide her into the bathroom, busily opening drawers and pulling out brushes. 

"Here," she says, "use this." 

I look at the proffered kiddy-gloss with narrowed eyes. 

"What," I sniff, "is that?" 

"It makes your lips shiny."

"Too make your lips shiny," I educate, "all you need is a tub of Vaseline. To look like a kallah, we will go beyond shiny."

I proceed to paint her. She stays admirably still. 

I borrow Ma's Mac Ruby Woo for some added oomph. 

Via onestopbeautyat.blogspot.com

My sister-in-law Beru is not so daring in her makeup colors. Once she insisted on doing my Face, applying shade after shade of eyeshadow. My reflection looked exactly the way it does without cosmetics. 

My niece peers into the mirror, debating if she likes her new look. 

Beru comes to pick her up. "Look what Lea did!" her daughter announces happily. "And I know which lipstick I need!" 

"Oh?" says Beru, smiling tolerantly.  

"I need Mac," she says firmly."Which one was it, Bàbi? Matte?" 

Muhahahahahahahaha. 

After all those years of being treated as unpaid labor and being told I torment the young by making them go to bed on time and eat actual food, I've discovered the best avenue for revenge.  

Making their offspring . . . mine.