I don’t mind my new wrinkles. Really, I don’t. But a couple of them are starting to cause misunderstandings.
I swear I am not scowling angrily at my 12-month-old for wanting a drink. I’m trying to help him use a straw so he doesn’t dump ice water on himself. I’m just concentrating! Geez! It’s no wonder I often hear Violet say, “Mommy, are you angry? I want you to be happy!” or Rob say, “What was that look? What did I do?” when really I’m just squinting into the sun or calculating complex equations in my head.
Seriously… should I inject poison into my forehead to avoid people thinking I’m pissed at the world? Just wondering.