Elle: "Mommy, maybe you have lines on your butt 'cause you're old."
(No. I have lines on my butt because I gave you precious life while you sucked away at my insides for nine months.)
Elle: "Mommy, you put colors in your hair because you don't want to look old because you are old. But it works and I think you're pretty."
(I can't argue with this. Putting color in my hair does make me feel pretty.)
Elle: "Mommy, your butt is getting big."
(Thank you, Elle. After having spent thirty years at a weight of ninety-five pounds or below, being told my butt is getting bigger is quite the compliment.)
Elle: "Mommy, sometimes you act like your sixty years old."
(Well, after coloring my hair and admiring my widening, stretchmarked ass, I'm allowed to take a break.)
DeAnna: "Wow. Sixteen years. I met you when I was fourteen."
(Oh. My. God. Has it been that long? At least we can grow old together.)