This morning, I was reading the paper while finishing my coffee at the table and Rye was munching a granola bar across from me.
We sat mostly in silence but then Rye said, "Why are you wearing that pretty dress, Mommy?"
It was about the nicest thing I could hear.
Because, being 35 weeks pregnant, I feel about as far from pretty as I can get.
It's not actually a dress, but the shirt is nicer and could be mistaken for a dress if you couldn't see my legs, which he couldn't.
Most of the time, this past week, I feel like I'm just trying to hang on to my sanity and a little bit of self esteem until this baby comes out. I'll never understand those women who say they like being pregnant.
But anyway, Rye's comment this morning helped. Even if he is biased.