Mission Impossible

Simple grooming is never simple with a 3-year-old.

The other day, after getting too many scratches on me during playtime, I decide to pull out the nail clippers.

There was once a time when nail clippers were one of those neat little gadgets that my baby thought fascinating. He couldn’t wait to try it out.

Nowadays, you’d think I was approaching with a butcher knife.

His eyes bulge out. Defensive arms swat me away. He kicks and screeches: “NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!”

We wrestle as I try to hold down his arms but his adrenalin is pumping hard and he busts out of my hold. He bolts to his room and slams the door.

Then there’s the problem of chapped lips.

His precious mouth may be on the verge of bleeding, but he revolts at the sight of the lip balm.

I try something different – Vitamin E oil. No sooner did I brush a little on his lips, did he wipe it off with his T-shirt.

My Darling Redhead suggests something flavored, something that’ll taste good. He buys an ice-cream flavored balm and I study the label, worrying momentarily about the potential for paraffin wax buildup in his stomach. But it didn’t matter anyway since this stuff would end up as a smear on his T-shirt, too.

His contorted face says to me: Mommy, why are you giving me that girlie stuff?

I try one last evasive maneuver, stealing into his bedroom when he’s fast asleep. He’s got the cutest little snore. Gently, quietly, I apply the lip balm. He doesn’t stir. I silently cheer my success and sneak away. Then he wakes up, wipes his mouth, mumbling, “don’t liiiiiiiii” before he collapses onto his pillow.

Curses. Foiled again.