I’m sure my face showed my tiredness after our long, but quick trip to West Virginia to visit old friends. As I pick up a dirty shirt from the floor, my eldest son looks at me and smiles.
“You are the most beautiful mama in the world,” he says.
I smile at his sweetness and lean over to kiss his sweaty face. Without guile and complete sincerity, he adds, “You are still the most beautful mama in the world even when your hair looks like a rat’s nest.”
I slap him with the dirty t-shirt as he ducks and runs away, cackling.
Prairie Sings 