lipstick & nail varnish

I don't really like seeing small girls in make up. It is all a bit yukky and sickly and makes me think of those adverts on Ch5 in the morning with small girls wearing make up as they rock their pink baby to sleep (the one that cries and wets itself) and they slightly also make you want to vomit. Its not really their fault but it does still induce nausea.
Anyway.
So here's a story about make up and small girls wearing make up.
We had The South London Cousins for lunch today. Liz has a nearly-twin-in-age-cousin and together they make mischief and play in a cheeky funny way. I have visions of them aged 16 in Leicester Square pissed out their brains tripping over their high heels and wondering how to get home without Cross Parents noticing they stink of cider.
So. Today, as we were enjoying Global Warming with a bbq and eating out in the garden, soaking up some hot sun, we noticed that there was a bit of a kid-free-silence. Hm. I wonder where the small people are, I thought.
But it was a not very important thought as we sat chewing our way through sausages and sea bream and end of season over-chewy-under-sweet-sweet-corn. We were lost in chat about horror films and what some old and wrinkled rock-star had chosen for his Desert Island Disk. Really important issues.
And then I thought. Hm, its still kind of quiet. So I sent Husband on a reckee to see what was going on.
About 3 minutes later he came down with Liz & her cousin. At first glance all looked fine. And then at closer inspection we realised that Liz was covered, from her forehead down to her toes in shiny pink lipstick, all greased up like a pig on a spit. And Cousin had an open pot of nail varnish, plus, lipstick all over her face, and some over-gloopy lip-gloss dripping like honey off her little cherry lips. (Both offending articles were old cast-offs of mine which I'd donated to Mol a few months ago. In fact she never uses them. So, I hold my hands up. I'm actually kind of responsible for this sick charade...)
And they came up to us very pleased and chipper: don't we look good?
Ughh!
No!
Gross!
And so in true mother style we spat on bits of kitchen roll and wiped the gloop and grease off the soft peachy skin and told them we didn't want our little cherubs turning into chav tarts at the age of 3. That learned them that did.