Is your internal monologue a little too revealing when as you try to decide between using heavy cream or half ‘n half in a recipe your brain says, “Do the right thing,” and you choose the cream?

Maggie’s eczema is out of control again, except this time, rather than just a bunch of crusty red patches, it is crusty, red, scabby patches. And those? They’re so much grosser to look at.

So yesterday I bit the bullet and took her to the clinic to see what was up and we learned that her eczema is infected. I immediately blamed myself and asked the doctor what I had done wrong. She said that there was nothing I had done or could do. Little kids touch everything and then they scratch and pick and these things happen.

She sent us home with an antibacterial goop for her face with instructions cover her face with it and then to swab it up her nose with a Q-tip after she fell asleep. Excuse me?

Anyway, last night it was time to apply the ointment, a process that usually involves flailing and screaming and me being kicked in the chest until Chris comes and pins her down so I can smear the stuff over her contorted, tear streaked face. Remember, this is the kid who gave me a dose of baby meds in the eye. She’s dangerous. I was scared.

And then I was brilliant.

Maggie is obsessed with make up. She routinely gets into mine and just the other day spent a half an hour at the Disney Store sitting in front of this vanity applying fake lipstick and perfume with the seriousness and solemnity of a priest at mass. I’m telling you, she was applying make up with total reverence. This grown up woman stuff is taken very seriously by my two year old. After all, she’s going to need to know what to do about those long, blonde lashes someday.

Rather than telling her that it was time for the medicine, I said, “Maggie! It’s time to put your pretty make up on!” I got total compliance, people. She laid down on her bed and let me pretty her up. Then I ooohed and ahhed about how beautiful she was, just like a princess. Score one for the mama!

The beautiful thing is that her face already looks better today. And when I went to reapply her “makeup” this morning she was totally obliging. After five and half years of parenting, am I finally catching on?