Flattery.

ONE said all sorts of charming and untrue things this morning that made me like him quite a lot.

ONE: Mommy, are you a teenager?”

Me: “No … why?”

ONE: “You look like a teenager.”

Me: “Oh?! Well thank you. But no. I’m a grown woman.”

ONE: “You look too skinny to be a grown woman.”

Me: “Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

(blank stare)

I’m not skinny, ONE. And look at my tummy!”

ONE: “Oh, I know why you have a belly, silly! There’s a baby in there. But the back of you is still skinny.”

I thought about making a joke about his eyesight, but I stopped myself. Nothing is wrong with my son’s eyes. He thinks I look young and beautiful and — dare I say, SKINNY — who am I to correct him?! One day he might decide I’m a dorky mom who he is embarrassed to be seen with, and I need to relish these days while I can … the days where he tells me I’m pretty and he wants to marry me or a girl just like me one day.

Man, I love that wild, spirited, sweet boy.

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