The Good Son

Last night, after the kids were asleep, I tied back my hair and smeared on a mint julep face mask. The mask is green and tingly, and as it dries, it becomes scaly and kind of frightening.

Mr. Smartypants, who hasn’t been feeling well, wandered into the room. He took one look at me and screamed like a girl. Then, he stopped and peered closer.

“Mommy?” He asked. “Is that you gettin’ beautiful?”

You know, like most mothers, I have been concerned about what kind of man my son will become. Clearly, he will be a politician, a lady’s man or both.


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