Wednesday, January 30, 2013


There is a moment when every child realizes that their parents are not superhuman. They are just ordinary, fallible humans. I fear my time is coming. But not just yet.

During some mother/son yoga yesterday, Harrison became suddenly agitated. "MOMMY!  What is on your bottom?!?". He was referring to the butterfly on my tailbone. A tattoo or tramp stamp, if you will.

"I LOOOOOOOVE butterflies!!" he shouted. He was eye to eye with the insect. Well, more accurately, he was nose to ass with me.  I explained to him that I had someone draw a picture on me and that it would stay there.  He screamed "MOMMY, YOU ARE AWESOOOOOOME!

Initially, I felt smug. I am awesome. A cool mom. Then it dawned on me that he will probably not be as entranced with my tattoo when he's 15 and I'm...*cough,cough*...47. So be it. He's going to realize I'm lame eventually.

For now I'm going to enjoy the shiny admiration in his little eyes. And strut. I think I feel like strutting.

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