Crueller people call them crow’s feet.
The child calls them a fan. As in, Mamma, you have fans under your eyes. Such vivid imagination. His mother’s son, after all.
Get out of my way unless you want to be trampled down by wild aged woman running helter skelter to nearest cosmetic counters for them undereye creams, which she is to use her third finger to pat on gently under said eyes every night. And contemplate, seriously contemplate injecting paralytic substances through fierce looking needles under her skin to freeze her face into a grotesque mask of expressionlessness and therefore no further line forming. Before giving up all pretence of being brave enough to bear long needles, and deciding that she will age disgracefully.
Any magic lotions and potions and home remedies will be welcome. Would be nice not to have crepe paper where my eyelids and under eye area used to be.