The other day, I was driving and Sawyer was reading my derby program from the last bout in the back seat. He said, "Mommy, you're the prettiest." Very sweet. But I knew what my photo in the program looked like, so I said, "Really? Are you SURE?" And he said, "Yes. You're the prettiest."
The following is my photo from the program.
Prettiest? Nope. Scariest and weirdest? Probably.
I have a tendency to take absurd and silly photos. But to my son, I am the prettiest, even when I look like...that. There's something about kids and their parents. Maybe I should just say "sons," because I don't know about daughters. (Moms of daughters, chime in here!) At this age, we are sort of automatically the heroes for our children. I am the prettiest, even when I look terrible. I have to do very little to earn the love from my sons at this point in their life, other than exist. So all the things like making food, playing with legos, taking them out for special treats like for frozen yogurt--those push me over the top to be the MOST AMAZING CREATURE ON THE PLANET. Except for Daddy.
I know that in a few short years, this will change. It doesn't mean they automatically obey me, or fully respect me all the time. They're human. But for now, this photo of me as the prettiest illustrated just how full and complete that son to mom love is right now.
I will happily soak up every minute of it.
(In case you are wondering, the title is another reference to Arrested Development. If you fully want to understand what I say on this blog, you might want to watch it. That and Mean Girls. I just have a lot of feelings.)