In the "Don't Sit So Close To Me" Department

Quinn was sitting on my lap this evening.  He was looking at me WAY too close. 

"Mom, what are those bumps on your chin?  My chin doesn't have those."  Uhhh... zits, Quinn.  Yours are on their way in about 10 years or so.

"Mom, what's inside your nose.  HAIR??? You have HAIR in your nose???"  So do you, Quinn.  You just can't look up your own nostrils.  "Mom, there can't be HAIR in your nose!  That's the path to your brain!!  Boogers come from your brain out your nose!"

"Mom, why are your lips scaly?"  Time to retouch the lipstick. 

Before he could say  more (which was definitely on the way, given how intently he was studying my face) I told him not look so closely at me.  So he scooched back, squinted his eyes, and continued staring.  Then he started messing with my hair, and told me he was going to make me "pretty".  That's a tall order, my son.  Tall order.