3PO and R2, two nephews close enough in age to get on each other's nerves, were going at it on a Friday afternoon. The go-to move is "divide and conquer"; I plucked away R2 from temptation, but needed to provide entertainment.
R2 is familiarly adorable; he takes after Luke in looks and personality, but with some quirks thrown in. Like how he loves to clean (he was delighted with the toy broom and shovel I bought him) and he loves to cream.
Yup, he got Babi's cream gene. This kid never gives me a hard time about shmearing coconut oil on his chapped cheeks and mouth.
"C'mon, baby, you can watch me put on my Shabbos Face." I plunked him on a stool in my bathroom and he watched, fascinated, as I brushed and buffed.
"Layla," he lisped, "what you doing?"
"I'm painting my Face," I answered simply.
"But why you paint your face?"
"To look pretty. Do I look pretty?"
He smiled sheepishly. "Yesh," he giggled.
He's Hungarian, all right.