He Hates This Foam!

One of the ka-billion gifts the boys got this Christmas past was a kooky kidz shaving kit. It comes replete with a lil' plastic razor (with, I dunno, like, 5 blades), a lil' mirror, a lil' shaving cream brush and, or course, a 'lil can of shaving cream.

I love this set mostly because of the totally anomalous shaving cream brush. I mean, really, when's the last time you saw anyone outside of Deadwood or the last scene from The Godfather use a shaving cream brush? It's like giving the kid a "Daddy's lil' Communicator" kit and including a telegraph with the computer, the iPhone and the Twitter account. Nonetheless, I love it because it's some weird attempt to embrace the idea of shaving and, somehow, a brush is still part of that. I can remember finding a really nice shaving cream brush in a medicine cabinet at my Grandma's house. It was a brush that had belonged to my grandfather, she told me, that had then been used by my Uncle. For a few days, this shaving cream brush was an icon of manhood to this hairless teenage-ed dork. Now Max has a plastic one.

The most disturbing part of the kit is the foam. It's actually a very, very foamy soap that puffs up really big, stays foamy forever, fumes a very scary smell of "blue" which also affects my breathing and gives me long, dull headaches. Max, however, can eat handfuls without any obvious side effects. Miles, obviously, has his own issues with the stuff.