Our Story

My name is Robert Little. Most people call me Big PaPaw.

I grew up in the Flowe's Store community of Cabarrus County, North Carolina — a small stretch of road outside of Midland where the land was flat and rich, the barns were weathered red, and the people were the kind who said what they meant and meant what they said. It was a place where you learned the value of hard work before you learned long division, where your grandpa's word was his bond, and where God wasn't just something you talked about on Sundays — He was woven into the fabric of everything.

I was raised largely on my grandpa's farm. Dad worked the second shift at a textile mill, which meant when I was home, he was at work, and when he was at work, I was with Grandpa. Looking back, I wouldn't trade a single minute of it. That old man taught me more about life, land, and character than I could ever put into words. He taught me how to work a Farmall Cub tractor, how to read the sky before a storm, how to treat people with dignity, and how to find joy in the simple things — a Saturday night with Lawrence Welk on the television, a bowl of popcorn popped in lard, and the smell of Aqua Velva and plug tobacco that meant Grandpa was close by.

I grew up all boy — and I mean that in every sense of the word. I picked up what I thought were earthworms once, only to discover they were baby copperhead snakes. Not one of them bit me. I've carried that moment with me my whole life as a reminder that God was watching over me long before I was old enough to know His name. I scratched the nose of a 1,400 pound bull named Pete that nobody else could get near. I tunneled under playhouses inspired by Hogan's Heroes, slid down hay fields on cardboard boxes, swung on vines across creeks, and drove a Farmall Cub tractor at four years old — standing up, because my feet couldn't reach the pedals sitting down. I was the kind of boy whose mama sewed his pockets shut to keep the hoppy toads out of her washing machine.

But underneath all the mischief was a boy being shaped by something bigger than himself. By grandparents who prayed over everything. By a father who was a man of his word — even when keeping it was hard. By a community rooted in faith, family, and the kind of honest living that doesn't ask for applause.

On my very first day of first grade at A.T. Allen Elementary School, I walked into the classroom and saw a little girl with the prettiest blue eyes I had ever seen in my six years on this earth. I went home that afternoon and told my mama I was going to marry her someday. We were sweethearts off and on through school, best friends in between, and when life brought us back together over pizza one evening, we never looked back. We have been married for forty years. Not forty easy years — forty real years, built on faith, commitment, and the kind of love that chooses each other every single morning. She is my partner in everything, including Big PaPaw Soap Company, where her corner of our store bears her name and her heart. Most everyone who loves her calls her Gigi.

I spent twenty-seven years as a sworn Law Enforcement Officer. Twenty-seven years of walking toward the things most people walk away from. Of seeing humanity at its worst and somehow finding the faith to believe in its best. Of holding the line so that families in my community could sleep safely at night. That career shaped me in ways I am still discovering. It taught me about integrity — that who you are when nobody is watching is who you really are. It taught me about service — that a life poured out for others is never a life wasted. And it reinforced what Grandpa had already shown me on that farm in Cabarrus County — that the most important things in life are rarely complicated. They just require showing up and doing the right thing, every single day.

Gigi and I were blessed with grandchildren — beautiful, wild, wonderful grandchildren who looked at me one day and started calling me Big PaPaw. That name stuck. And somewhere in the joy of those early grandparent years, surrounded by the people I loved most, I started thinking about soap.

Not fancy soap. Not trendy soap. Real soap. The kind our grandparents made. The kind that worked because it was made from honest ingredients — grass-fed beef tallow, natural oils, nothing you can't pronounce. I went back to the old ways, the same way I've always gone back to the old ways when the modern world gets too loud. I started making soap in small batches, the old-fashioned way, right here in North Carolina. And something remarkable happened — people loved it. Not just because it worked, which it does, but because they could feel the difference between something made with care and something made for convenience.

Big PaPaw Soap Company was born from that conviction. That the best things in life are simple and honest. That what you put on your body matters. That handcrafted, small batch, real ingredients will always be better than mass produced and chemically processed. That a bar of soap can carry a story, a heritage, and a piece of somebody's heart if the person making it puts those things in on purpose.

We have grown beyond that first bar of soap, but we haven't grown away from what made it. Gigi's Corner is exactly what it sounds like — her space, her heart, her touch. Handcrafted soaps and products made for the women who deserve something gentle and real and beautiful. Our tallow skin balm carries two ingredients — grass-fed tallow and essential oils — because that is all it needs and we refuse to add anything it doesn't. Our Country Candles are poured in classic Ball mason jars with our signature farm blend wax, the kind of warm, familiar scent that makes a house feel like a home. Our BP Elegance line steps into something a little more refined — premium hand-poured soy candles and wax melts for spaces that deserve more than a generic store bought scent. And our Big PaPaw Tees let you carry the brand that started on a farm in Cabarrus County wherever life takes you.

Every single thing we make is done by hand, in small batches, right here in Mt. Pleasant, North Carolina. Not because it's easier — it isn't. But because that's the only way we know how to do it right.

I am also a writer. Every Saturday at midnight I publish a new story from my childhood — a blog series called From The Soap Kettle. Stories about Grandpa and Pete the bull and Uncle Buddy's gyrocopter and the boy who grew up all boy in the Flowe's Store community of Cabarrus County. Those stories are the heartbeat of this brand. Because Big PaPaw was never just about soap. It was always about something harder to bottle — a way of life, a set of values, a belief that the old ways still matter and the simple things are still the best things.

I am a man of faith. I make no apologies for that and I never will. Every product that leaves this shop goes out with a prayer over it. Every story I write ends with a reminder to take someone to church on Sunday. Every morning I wake up grateful for a God who watched over a five year old boy carrying a can full of copperhead snakes and decided his story wasn't finished yet.

If you grew up getting into trouble, you deserve a good bar of soap.

Welcome to Big PaPaw. Pull up a chair and stay a spell.

— Robert, Big PaPaw Mt. Pleasant, North Carolina