So, I work out of a converted garage on a farm where jeans and a t-shirt are the expected attire and my boss frequently shuffles into work in his bedroom slippers. Tomorrow, however, I'll be at a conference with representatives from schools across the country who use our software, so I thought I'd bust out something better than my jeans. I'm in the bathroom trying on an outfit and pinning back my bangs (another thing that never happens) when Caiden comes in and starts cooing how pretty I look. Of course, I'm ready to eat this up. Good for Mommy's ego, right?
Wrong.
Caiden: Mommy, you look PRETTY!
Me: Awwww, thanks honey!
Caiden: Pretty like a COW!
Me: Oh. Um....what?
Caiden: Yeah. Especially those sticks in your hair. Just like horns. You look JUST like a cow, Momma.
I have no idea what my face looked like, but it must not have been strictly flattered. He felt the need to clarify.
Caiden: A *pretty* cow. Like, a cow whose hair got all the poop brushed out. Like THAT.
Oh, my poor ego!
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