a fair question

Mrs. G, what's that thing on your face? the seven-year old asked. I knew exactly what she was referring to. It was large enough to have an economy larger than that of the Czech Republic and sustain a standing army.
It's a big zit, I replied calmly. I don't have any cover up, and it was so painful that covering it up at 6:45 a.m. would have hurt much more than letting it die a natural death.
What's a zit? she inquired further.
It's a thing that sometimes grows on grown-ups faces, I explained, still smiling serenely at the child. I hate being a teacher sometimes.
Oh, okay. She skipped down the hall.
I popped it on the way to my car.