Do you struggle with pride?
Let me lend Adelaide to you for a day. She'll clear that right up.
A few days ago, I decided to change before Derek got home. I had been wearing ratty old clothes for most of the day, but decided my husband didn't need to be greeted by that depressing sight when coming home from work. I came down the stairs in my fresh clothing, only to be greeted by Adelaide, who cocked her head and looked at me critically.
"Did you change your clothes for Daddy?"
Her expression changed to one of confusion. "Do you want him to think you look handsome?"
"No, handsome wasn't exactly what I was going for..."
"Then why are you wearing brown? It doesn't look very nice."
I tried to keep in mind that her current idea of "looking nice" includes lots of rhinestones, hooker heels, and pink.
Then just yesterday, she was asking how everyone around the world came to speak different languages. We got into a discussion about the Biblical tower of Babel and God changing a common language into many to confuse the people. One of the nice things about Adelaide is that she listens intently, then shows that she has been paying attention by asking (about a million) questions. I braced myself for the usual onslaught, of which the first was, "What did the tower of Babel look like?"
I replied, "Well, I don't really know, let's look in the Bible and see what it says-"
"No, no," she interrupted. "I mean did you see it? Were you alive when that Bible story happened?"
It's a good thing I've never been particularly senstive about my age and getting older. It's also a good thing I have Atticus to say things like, "Dat's purdy, Mommy," no matter what I'm wearing.