Last night I was washing my face, and I noticed a spec of dirt on my cheek. I scrubbed the area, but the dirt didn’t come off. It was then that I realized that it was not dirt, but a giant permanent dark spot.
I gasped, audibly.
“What’s wrong, mommy?” Ari asked.
“There’s a spot on my face!” I exclaimed. My mind was racing. I’ve been neglectful about putting on sunscreen, it’s cancer! I have a cancerous growth! I’m getting old, I’m going to die! Clearly, I’ve gone mad.
“Don’t worry, mommy,” Ari replied softly. “I have a spot too.
“You do?” I asked, thinking he was just humoring me. “Where?”
He pointed to a tiny scratch near his nose.
“Let’s put some Bacitracin on it.” He said. “On your spot, and my spot. It’s gonna feel better okay?”
For those of you that are unfamiliar with Bacitracin, it’s like the Jewish Neosporin. When I was a child, my mom’s tried and true cure for every thing was “put some Bacitracin on it!” Ari is becoming a part of the Bacitracin tradition.
“Ari, I’m not getting old, right?” I asked him.
“No, you put some Bacitracin on it, and it’s gonna feel better okay mommy?”
“Okay,” I said sheepishly.
We went to the bathroom and put bacitracin on both of our “spots.”
After we were done with our “treatments,” he said:
“Don’t worry mommy. It’s gonna feel better. It’s gonna go away. Okay? You not get old.”
“Okay.” I said.
Together, Ari and I are fighting old age, one squirt of Bacitracin at a time.
