So, I'll make this quick.
I was encouraged by a certain blog celeb (you know who you are), to blog this story. So, here goes...
My mom to this day is self-conscious about the tiny (tiny, tiny) wrinkles on her forehead. You know, the ones that form when you raise your eyebrows when you're giving the "don't you test me" look. My mom is a beautiful woman. And has a beautiful face..."wrinkles" and all.
Even as a young mother, she felt they were obvious. Apparently, to a 4-6 year-old they are.
When I was in preschool/kindergarten, I proudly brought home a picture I'd drawn of our whole family: my little brother, Jonathan, my Dad, myself and my mom...with three black lines drawn across her forehead. My mom couldn't believe it.
Fast forward 20-some-odd years to me driving Audrey home from Mother's Day Out. Here's how it went down:
(Audrey is furiously running her finger across her forehead...back and forth...back and forth.)
Me: Audrey, what are you doing?
Audrey: Trying to paint lines on my forehead like yours!
I couldn't find my phone fast enough to call Mom. She had always given me a hard time for drawing that picture of her. She said it would come back to haunt me.