Age as an alibi

Three-year-old Mykolas, gazing at himself in the mirror, solemnly declares:

“I’m young.”

I nod in agreement.

“And me? Am I young or old?” I seize the moment to ask.

I barely have time to think that, with my pre-bed “polished” makeup and my granny-style bun, I might lean toward the second description.

“You’re my MAMA.”

I nod knowingly.

“And is your mama young or old?” I persist.

“Mykolo’s mama GLAZI,” he announces, observing carefully, crowning our little conversation with his verdict.

Translation: In our children’s eyes, we mothers have an alibi of age.

We are of indescribable age.
We are SIMPLY BEAUTIFUL.

To the BEAUTIFUL. US.
V.