These are the cries I hear coming from the master bathroom this morning. I dash upstairs to see what is wrong. William, my six-year-old, is sputtering, "I -- I -- I got yucky girl stuff on meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"
Upon examination, he had the slightest drop of makeup on the palm of his hand (due to his rummaging through my makeup drawer).
This boy is bound for manly manhood.