The Observations of Mr. Ethan

I was tucking the kids into bed last night, and as I was sitting on the lower bunk kissing Ethan's face, he looked at me a little differently. I could tell he was inspecting something, and since it was my face he was studying, I became a little defensive.

"What are you looking at, Baby?" His big eyes kept moving from my forehead to my cheeks down to my chin as if following a little nomadic glow-in-the-dark insect.

"I see...Why do you have little circles on your face?"
"Little circles? Where?"
"Right there." He points to my forehead and giggles. And your nose, too!

Oh! Duh! Circles, of course--my chickenpox scars from when I was 12 and couldn't help myself but scratch them 'cause they itched like hell, and then the scabs came off too early from all the impulsive scratching and I had to enter Middle School with large pink craters on my face and got made fun of by David Celaya which made me feel hideously insecure about my forehead which had it the worst, but I showed him by pretending not to care, and said so what I said. I had chickenpox, and what exactly is your excuse?

Well, I left out those minor details when explaining to Mr. Ethan that that's what happens when you get chickenpox and scratch them too much. You get scars. Fortunately, the scars don't bother me anymore, and most of the time I forget they're there. Just another part of my face now. As for the emotional scarring I appear to have gotten from David? I haven't thought about him or his teasing for a long time now. So I think it's safe to say there was never any scarring, just a little scrape.