“My pimple beat your pimple!” Andrew exclaimed from the other room. The words were said with truimph and glee. I wondered what brought it on and strolled over to the other room.
The boys were having a fierce discusssion. Competition was in the air.
I was used to it. Boys, at least my boys, tend to be pretty competitive and they don’t discriminate over topics. I’ve had to be judge and jury more times than I can count. I can even recall when my readers chimed in and helped decide the winner of the Demi vs. Selena argument. Neither wants to lose. EVER.
However, this debate was decided without my interference. Andrew had won.
His pimple had won.
He may not have chin hair, could barely lift a 20lb bag of Carolina rice and had much less underarm hair than his brother, but in the end that did not matter. Today, he had won! He had his first pimple before his brother had his.
And it was a pus filled doozer!
Let’s talk! Do you recall your first pimple? What was your reaction to it?
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Oh yes. My older sister was over by me trying to play dermatologist.
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