Tall and happy mommy

Today Will and Owen and I enjoyed a Mother’s Day tea together at Wynnton preschool. As we were posing for this photo, Owen took a well-aimed swipe at my cake and sent it tumbling onto the table.

Then I got to open a mother’s day card featuring Will in profile, a nice keepsake that his teachers had to create for him. (Go here for instructions on how to make a Victorian silhouette like this.)
And then came the real prize: this picture of me colored by Will, which I am planning to frame.

Below the picture Will’s description of me was typed: “My mommy is tall and happy.” I loved those adjectives – happy, because it feels so true recently, and tall, because, well, no one’s ever called me that in my 5-foot-3 life.

“Look, I see my brown eyes,” I said as I spotted two faint brown circles in my rainbow of a face.

“Yep,” Will said. “And this is your hair. And here’s your beautiful neck. And here’s your beautiful shirt.”

I was feeling like a very colorful and beautiful mom -- which was nice while it lasted. When I showed my portrait to Rob tonight, he looked skeptically at the descriptive phrase beneath rainbow me and said: “Hmmm. I don’t know about tall and happy. I think it’s more like stumpy and grumpy.”

But we’re not hanging Rob’s portrait of me on the wall.