Yesterday at church Bug and I stopped between Sunday School and Big Church/Preaching, whatever you call it, at the ladies room. It’s a typical stop for us and Bug did her business and as I was helping her get to the sink to wash her hands she looked at me and said (in front of a packed bathroom) “Momma you are pretty.”
At the time, I was a little embarrassed, because the bathroom was packed and being called pretty is uncomfortable. Then a older lady caught me afterwards and told me how she missed those days. with her grandchildren. Maybe the lady sensed that I was uncomfortable and wanted to remind me that it’s the innocence of children that helps us to stay real.
Fast forward to last night when I asked Bug if she knew she was pretty to which she responded, “I am no pretty, I am gorgeous!”