While Addie and I were in Chicago she was with me pretty much everywhere I went, including the bathroom.
One morning as I was showering I turned around to see her staring at me intently. It wasn’t a judgmental sort of stare, just the kind of stare kids give when they’re trying to figure stuff out.
“Mom? Why do your legs sag?” I could tell she thought she was going to get in trouble for asking.
“They’ve carried me for 30 years, you for 8 and Vivi for 2, they’re just a little tired of holding me up, that’s all.”
I can remember staring at my mom the same way and wondering the same thing, now that I have her legs down to the extra padding on my knees? I know it’s even more important that I don’t say anything negative about myself, especially in front of Addie, because my saggy knees may one day be hers and she needs to know that they’re really good knees, just not the ones magazines tell us we should have.
“Mom? Do you ever play with your chest?”
“Why would I?”
“They just look fun, they’re so jiggly and floppy.”
“Daddy says the same thing sweetheart.”
“Nothing. Room service?”
May I be able to forever maintain the beauty of my squashy parts.