From the mouths of babes...

It's a wonder we have any self-esteem at all when we hang out with kids. Take for example my nieces and nephews. I love them. They are fantastic, well-mannered, and fun kids. They love me. They give me awesome hugs and lots of "you're the best" vibes every time I see them.

But...

They can also innocently come up with the zingiest of zingers that get right to the heart of the matter, or should I say, fat of the matter.

Case in point: My nephew Aiden, age 4. We were coming out of his mom's van when he asked me out of the blue, "Aunt Rita, why do you have a big butt?" After I picked myself off the ground, I looked at him with, "Well, why do you have a little butt?"

He did a yoga-esque contortion and took an eyeful of his own posterior. " 'Cause I'm little."

"That's right." I replied. He thought about that for about 1.5 seconds and came back with, "So, when I'm small I have a small butt and when I'm big I'll have a big butt?"

"Yes, right again." I smiled, proud that I had handily dodged that bullet. He thought that one over for about a milisecond and stopped short.

"But my mom doesn't have a big butt like yours. How come?" The bullet found its target - deep in the fat of my psyche.

I shut the van door, gave him a hug, and went directly to the nearest Weight Watchers meeting.


Case in Point #2 - Thanksgiving Weekend 2006

I am cuddling on the couch with my niece Holly who is 7. We love to cuddle - I'd like to say it's she who craves the attention but let's face it, the Christian single life is dangerously low on cuddling. But I digress...

As we are "feet-up on the table" and smushed together on the couch, I am having a conversation with my brother. During the conversation, Holly starts poking me all over the front and muttering to herself. Disengaging myself from my brother's coversation, I look at her. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Counting your cracks."

Counting. Your. Cracks.

See if you can visualize this horror. Ok, not horror but darn close. Holly is poking her fingers in between the rolls on my body. "One...two...three...Four!" Oh my gosh!!!!!! Where is Aiden? Lurking behind the couch with a video camera? Was there a memo that went out about acceptable Aunt Rita activities?

But the truth is...we can't hide from what we are. I can pretend all I want that my butt looks smaller and that my "cracks" are just wrinkles of extra skin. If I actually want that reality, I am going to need to work.

"Hello, Tony? I'll be right there."