Handsome. In. Pink.

I am sitting across the table from The Son. Our legs are dangling and swinging because we are sitting at one of those awesome high tables like the kinds at bars or pubs or other dark places without windows or milkshakes.

Note: No, we are not sitting in a bar or pub or other dark place. We are lunching at MacDonald's which boasts both windows and milkshakes, luckily.

Additional Note: Simmer down. Of course I am not having a milkshake. The temperature in hell remains stable.

So, I am sitting across the table from The Son. We are eating and laughing and discussing current events such as The Bachelor and Is it just me or does Giada deLaurentis have an unusually large head? and The Perfection of the Grandboy, oh yes, we are discussing The Perfection of the Grandboy.

And I always forget how handsome The Son is. In real life. And I am always so surprised when I see him. In real life. In my mind I just think he's uglier, I suppose.

Note: Oh, come on. Can't a Mama joke now and then?

But then The Handsome and Funny Son steps it up a notch and pulls out all the stops. I think I may burst with pride.

Note: No, he did not buy lunch. Now you're just getting silly. Please try to Focus.

We prepare to leave. My hands are momentarily full. I need to answer my phone or I need to blow my nose or something important, so I ask The Son to hold my purse. For a moment. It is an enormous, hot pink tote, which he takes without hesitation. And rather than holding the bag at arm's length in obvious manly distaste, The Son throws the enormous hot pink tote over his shoulder, like a continental soldier, yes.

I smile.

I am walking with a giant, confident, handsome and successful man. And he's carrying an enormous hot pink tote bag without a second thought.

That's My Boy.

Heck, yes!




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Location:The Family Room. On the Sectional. With Rubi.