We were sitting on the couch, snuggling. She had been disappointed by something or another and had been crying in my lap, now we were just cuddling as she lay gazing up at my face.
I looked into her tear filled eyes and smiled. She smiled back and touched my cheek lightly.
“Mama?” She asked softly.
“Yes, Baby.” I said.
“What are those wavy things?” She asks.
“What do you mean, Sweetheart?” I ask.
She points just under my eye where age and years of sleep deprivation have conspired to start forming soft wrinkles. “Those wavy lines. What are they?”
“Wrinkles.” I say, chagrined. Here we were having a beautiful moment and she has to go and point out that I’m getting old. Seriously?
“Oh.” She says softly and lets the subject go.
Until dinner time, when she announces proudly to my husband, “Mommy has lots of wrinkles. You should look.”