Just try to picture it (well, not really picture it, just imagine the situation - not the specifics......)
We head into Meijer. Dean takes the youngest three, while I grab Isaac and run into the bathroom real quick (see what I mean about not imagining the specifics?). There I was, situating myself over a not-so-clean Meijer commode, when I hear my sweet son say:
"Momma, you're beautiful"
"I said, Momma, you're beautiful" (he repeats as I'm *sure* I must have misunderstood him).
There I am, in all my skirt-hiked-up glory......and my son finds me beautiful.
I'll take it.