The Price of Beauty

Those eyes.  Oh, how I love them.  I marvel over them.  I stare at them.  I admire the length  of those lashes.  I gaze at them when his eyes are shut, as he dreams of animals and adventures.  

They are just beautiful.  Just plain beautiful.  And we discovered today that those long, beautiful lashes can be a curse too.  And they can create a whole lot of drama.  Especially for a little boy who doesn't care one tiny bit about having such amazing lashes.  He's a boy, for heaven's sake.

Today Sam began having a minor breakdown and saying his eye hurt.  Within minutes we were up to our elbows in screaming, tears and flailing body parts.  We thought he had dirt or a lash in his eye that was bothering him.  We held him down, trying desperately to find the foreign object in his eye.  Nothing.  So off he went, still rubbing his eye and whining.  I told Jody there was something in there and we had to get it out.  

A flashlight, a warm washcloth and one screaming three year later, we saw the problem. A small group of his upper lashes had curled inward instead of out and were resting on his eye.  The washcloth didn't work so Jody had the idea to use a q-tip (probably from experience because Jody's lashes give him problems too) to gently wipe the lashes away. More screaming and flailing limbs and finally Jody swiped the lashes out of his eye and redirected them outward.  Sam was immediately grateful and giggling.

He asked me, "Mama, why did my eyelashes do that?  Why did they hurt me?"  "Because, honey, your lashes are so long and a couple were accidentally poking in  your eye.  That's the price you pay for having those eyes, buddy."  He walked away unamused.