One day our youngest son, I think he was second or third grade, came from school looking very sad. I took a quick look at his face and within a second knew there was something that was bothering him.
When we got home, I called him to my bedroom and asked, “You look very sad. Is there something you want to talk about?” His eyes were actually ready to let it all out.
So, wiping his tears, he said, “So and so said to me, “Your Mama doesn’t look like a mother.”