I have a small, little, insignificant, tiny, imperceptible, infinitesimal, modest, unimportant really, slight, okay, wee obsession with Chapstick. I just love the little tubes of waxy-flavored goodness that just makes me happy. A connoisseur if you will. My purse is riddled with little tubs of varying shapes, flavors, and brands of lip balm. My nightstand, jewelry drawer, makeup bag, and dresser are all congested with Chapstick.
So, because of my obsession, I have bred a little obssessee that likes to carry a tube of the stuff in her pants pockets (which ends up in the dryer and creates a messy dried wax on our clothes, but that’s a story for another day). She, like her mom, loves Chapstick. Yesterday, she pulled one out of my purse and showed her daddy the “wireless Chapstick.” I guess the ever-pervasive consumerist media message has invaded the Trainor household!
Mackenzie’s “Wireless Chapstick”
Her totally fake smile. (Please ignore the bangs, Mom. We are in major grow out stage…)