A Christmas Mom-ism
This is my Mom and I yesterday at our family’s Eve of Christmas Eve party.
My niece Naomi took the photo. She’s five years old. I think Mom and I look so happy because we are looking at her.
However, I hold Naomi completely accountable for the state of my hair. As far as I’m concerned, being in kindergarten is no excuse for not saying, “Aunt Nancy, fix your hair. You look really stupid.” Get with it, Naomi.
My Mom’s sweater is new. She ordered it from a catalog for something like 95% off. I think when she first ordered it, it may have been 60%. But her savings story has increased exponentially in the past few weeks. I figure by New Year’s Day, J.C. Penney will have paid her to take the sweater.
She’s wearing her new sweater for the first time, although she has shown it to me once or twice in the past few weeks. (or maybe four times)
Last night at the party, I told her that the sweater was very flattering. A beautiful color and fit.
“And slimming,” I added.
“Oh,” Mom said, sounding a little disappointed. “I thought you were going to say ‘sexy’.”
“Mom,” I said, “at eighty-eight, if ‘sexy’ is the look you’re going for, you might not quite get there.”
She answered: “But the camisole is so low-cut.”