For four years, I’ve pondered a question: How will my daughter, Mia, ever repay me for those grueling forty-two hours of labor? The answer arrived unexpectedly one day while we were at the grocery store checkout line.
Spotting a magazine cover featuring the glamorous actress, Zoe Saldana, Mia exclaimed, “Mommy, she looks just like you!”
You know those movie scenes where everything seems to pause, and sounds echo? That’s how it felt. Mia’s bright blue eyes sparkled as she turned to me with a radiant smile. “Oh, you think so? She’s very beautiful,” I replied modestly, feeling as if I were floating on air. Though Mia may have some quirky visual processing issues, in that moment, we were even.
Of course, I bear no resemblance to Zoe Saldana. The only similarities are my short hair and brown eyes. But children have a way of generalizing that sometimes works to your advantage, and other times, not so much.
For instance, one evening I arrived at the dinner table looking less than my best, and Mia, perhaps fueled by her frustration for being denied her beloved princess purse at the table, offered a compliment: “You look very handsome tonight, Mommy.”
My partner, Rachel, quickly corrected her with a playful, “You mean, ‘Mommy is so pretty!’”
“No, she’s handsome,” Mia insisted, a mischievous grin plastered on her face.
This isn’t the first time Mia has shared her “insights.” She once remarked, “Mommy, yours isn’t as tidy down there as mine,” and “Look, Mommy, you have a tiny mustache!” Just when I thought I’d moved past the insecurities of my youth, here I am, back in the ring, dealing with the unfiltered honesty of children.
Mia, with her golden curls and radiant skin, is the kind of child who turns heads in the grocery store. “What an angel!” they say. “A living angel.”
Meanwhile, I’m just trying to navigate the yogurt aisle, dragging my “long boobs” behind me while contemplating the seventeen-dollar yogurt tube. Despite my body having changed after giving birth to three children—two at once, mind you—I feel more at peace with my appearance than ever. Perhaps it’s because I no longer seek validation from others. Rachel is stuck with me, and I’m not out there looking for love anymore.
If only I could get Mia to keep her thoughts to herself. Last summer, she asked if I “remember fossils.”
Children possess a remarkable ability to see the world as it is, devoid of judgment or bias. We’ve all had those moments when, after sharing a story about a mistreated animal, they innocently question why anyone would harm another being simply for being different. Such clarity!
I have reveled in the knowledge that my efforts to instill acceptance in my children have resonated. I could almost see it on Mia’s face this morning when she turned to me in bed. Surely her heart was filled with pure love and devoid of judgment, I thought. Then she casually proclaimed, “Mommy, your breath smells like cat poop.”
That’s it. I’m drafting her a Labor and Delivery invoice now.
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Summary:
The humorous and candid observations of children often expose the unvarnished truths about ourselves. In a relatable tale, a mother reflects on her daughter’s innocent yet brutally honest remarks that highlight the child’s unfiltered perspective on beauty and acceptance, all while navigating the complexities of parenting.
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