Yesterday I discovered this little love note on my desk:
I love you. You don’t look old.
I’m quite convinced that my 5-year-old would surely have written something like, “you are radiant,” “you are beautiful,” or maybe even, “you are the fountain of splendid youth” if “radiant,” “beautiful,” and “fountain of splendid youth” were as easy to spell as “old.” Likewise, I am certain none of my children’s love for me is contingent on my appearance, especially since after I picked up my 3-year-old from preschool yesterday and chatted with her teachers I noticed I had green smoothie encrusted on my upper lip and on the tip of my nose. “I have dried smoothie all over my face!” I exclaimed.
“I know,” said my 8-year-old.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know. You still look nice.”