. . . that I think I am.
I was cooking dinner last night (ahem, mac and cheese) and was boiling the macaroni, when the pot boiled over. (Or, “balled” over, as my Daddy with his Savannah accent would say. He also says “aygs” for eggs, “all” for oil, and “tin fall” for tin foil.) Tiller was in the kitchen with me and as the pot boiled over, she looked at me, shaking her head as if in disgust, and said, “That always happens.”
Night before last, our babysitter Rebecca got to the house, and I was dressed and saying good night to Tiller. She hugged me then pulled back to study my face, as if seeing me for the first time.
“Mama, what’s wrong with your eyes?”
“Um, that’s makeup baby.”
She keeps me honest, that one. No thinking i am a beautiful domestic Goddess with her around.