While I rarely, if ever, wear makeup, I have to say that the fine lines and age spots that are starting to appear on my 40-something face are bothering me.

I should be glad it’s not worse.

After years of lifeguarding and sun-worshipping, the fact that I don’t look like a well-worn, leather mailbag is nothing short of a miracle. While I’ve been sporadic in applying sunscreen and moisturizers over the years, I finally bit the bullet and invested in a “skin care system” that promises to have me looking 10 years younger in a matter of months.

While I want to change what I see in the mirror, I am also reluctant to inflict my own vanities and insecurities on the kids. So, I waited until the kids were in bed to start my nightly battle with aging. The first step in the process is to apply a purifying mask that takes a few minutes to dry.

Using that few minutes of drying time to start an old habit of reading actual books was developing into a nice routine for me. I began to look forward to a few quiet minutes of forced relaxation every few nights.

That didn’t last. It wasn’t long until someone had to answer the call of nature mere minutes after being put to bed, and of course, the closed bathroom door didn’t mean anything to G as he barged right in, intent on his business. However, catching me in full face mask drew him up short and made him forget why he was there in the first place.

It’s important that you understand that out of the three of them, short of rockets shooting out of my head, A wouldn’t have noticed a thing out of place and E would have gone about her business, and within a day or two would have helped herself to all of my supplies, watched a YouTube tutorial and have been an expert at applying the “regimen.” G, however, is a different ball of wax.

“Mom, what is on your face?” he asked matter-of-factly. As if I might not be aware that I was covered in slow-drying goop. I explained the whole “it’s stuff to clean the impurities out of my skin and tighten my pores” sales pitch that had sold me on the stuff.

As I was talking, I could see one of my favorite looks forming on his face. I’m not sure if it’s just his personality, or if it’s because he’s the perpetual little brother who is wary of being set up by his big brother, but he is pretty finely tuned to pick up on “bull pucky.” He’s also one of the most curious kids I’ve ever met, so he has developed this look that says, “I think you’re pulling my leg, but I’m curious to see where this goes … so I will humor you.”

After I finished the sales pitch, he confirmed what I just said. “So, you put this stuff on your face, and your wrinkles go away.” (He was still wearing his “I’m humoring you” look.)

“Essentially, yes,” I responded. “But, I have to do it regularly, for a long time. Because it took a long time for me to get these wrinkles, so they’re not going to go away overnight.”

I could see the gears turning some more. He got the idea that the various creams and serums were replacing things that had broken down or didn’t work as well as I got older. He also had a good grasp on the process of scrubbing my face, toning my face, and then applying nutrients and protective stuff to help fix my skin. Ever the pragmatist, he also asked how much this stuff costs. “Yeah, Mom, I can see why you’d spend a lot of money to look like you were in your 30s again. I mean, I wouldn’t want to look 10 years younger, because then I’d look like a baby, but I can see why that’s a thing grown-ups would want.”

With those sage words, he took himself back to bed and I scrubbed the goop off my face and applied what I’ve come to call my face spackle and off to bed I went. Over the next few days, I would occasionally find him studying me closely. And I do mean closely.

We’d be sitting down over breakfast, and I’d find him scooching his chair closer to me and hitting me with an inquisitive eye or we’d be driving in the car and I’d catch him leaning over the seat peering intently at me. One night as we sat down to watch a movie, he climbed over his sister and deposited himself practically on my lap. Once again, I got inspected.

After about a week of this behavior, I was surprised one day when he suddenly announced, “You know what, Mom, I think that stuff is really helping you! You look a lot younger!” I can’t say for sure that I’m seeing the same results that he is.

Maybe that’s a product of my also aging eyesight, but whatever the price I’m paying for that magic potion, I have to tell you, I suddenly don’t mind paying it. I’m thinking more skin care programs should hire hypercritical children as their spokespeople, because he sure sold me on this one. Of course, the day he informs me that it’s no longer working, that stuff is gone, gone, gone from the medicine cabinet!

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.