“Where do you see Momma, honey?”
“No, silly. That’s Auntie. That’s me…See?”
After a couple more attempts at trying to reason with a two year old and convince her that the beautiful bride in the wedding photos was me and not her mother, it hit me. My sweet niece doesn’t know me to look like that. She just knows me FAT.
A sobering thought.
You see, kids have no agendas. They aren’t beating around the bush. They aren’t holding back as to not hurt feelings. They call ’em how they see ’em. To her, I looked entirely different than the woman in the photo. That was nine years and over one hundred pounds ago. Of course she wouldn’t recognize me. I’m not that person in the picture anymore. But it doesn’t mean I can’t be new and improved.
The sheer adamancy of her statement struck a cord.
A toddler just might change my life.