He thinks I’m pretty.

My son and I had a conversation this morning. A simple conversation. But it has stuck with me all day. 

I was sitting at the table flat ironing my hair.

Boy: Why do you have to do that every day? 
Me: I don’t have to do it every day. I just want my hair to look pretty.
Boy: You look pretty when you don’t do that.

He had such a confused look on his face. He couldn’t comprehend why I thought it was not pretty before. 

I have wavy, frizzy hair. It never looks the least bit decent when drying on its own. My husband loves when I use the flat iron. He often says it’s “beautiful when it’s straight.”

He is not a fan of the way my hair looks naturally. Like i said, it’s curly/wavy and frizzy and just BIG. I often have it up in ponytails, which I’m sure he gets tired of seeing. Flat ironing takes too much time. I’m too lazy to do it as often as he would like.

But apparently my son doesn’t care what my hair looks like. He doesn’t care what I wear, either.

Kids are so genuine and innocent. They don’t care what I look like or what I’m wearing. All they care about is that I’m their mommy. And that apparently makes me pretty to them.

My daughter often compliments me. I can be in pjs, and she will say “I like your pretty dress,” which is often a shirt). 

She looks at me lovingly even when all of my baby hairs are curling up on top of my head like a thin layer of afro-likeness. She tells me she likes me.

My son is starting to think kissing is “yucky.” When he sees someone kiss on TV (even the simplest kiss on the cheek on a kid’s show), he says “ewwwww.” It made me sad. Then I asked him if he thought my kisses were “yucky.” His answer was a quick no. He still kisses me on the lips. Because I’m his mommy. I get as many hugs as I want. And tight hugs. He still will tell me he loves me in public.

I will be so sad when that stops.

In the meantime, a few things have come to mind since pondering our conversation today.

I wondered how I could keep him and his sister so innocent. Maybe I could be less vocal about my problems with my body. Maybe I could be more confident and happy with who I am and what I look like. Maybe I can encourage him to see women for their true beauty. 

How do I stop outside influence? I suppose I can’t keep him from hearing what others have to say. The best defense is a strong offense, right? And Husband and I will BRING IT at home. 

My son’s words also reminded me of how God sees us. He doesn’t see my messy hair or frumpy pajamas the way I do. He still thinks I’m pretty. He doesn’t care if I get overwhelmed; if I have a bad day; if I yell out of frustration; if that Pinterest recipe didn’t work out.

He loves me regardless. He thinks I’m beautiful. “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”

May I always remember that, so that I can relay that message successfully to my children.