Soft as Cookie Dough. But NOT cute!

My son came home one day and told me that his friends at school AND from church choir think I'm cute.

I said, "what do you MEAN cute?" Cute does not sit well with me. Hey, old-school feminist here, and a feminist can be anything she wants, but not cute.

He said, "You know, sweet and kindly cute. The sort that bakes cookies and wouldn't hurt a fly."

"You of course told them that they were wrong, that I'm really a nasty mean mom who bullies you daily, and who never appreciates you enough," I said, trying to maintain a position of strength. "Teenagers are supposed to say things like that about their parents, because of their adolescent rebellion and all. And by the way, the cookie dough is in the fridge, second shelf."

"No," he said, grinning and patting me on the head from his ridiculously tall height, "I said they were right. My friends are pretty smart."

"You realize this totally destroys the image I was trying to portray of someone totally kick-ass and, you know, sort of Clint Eastwood-like, except female."

"Sorry, Mom, you're just going to have to live with the image of cuteness."

"I'm not baking those cookies this time," I said, putting on a stern look.

"That's fine, I'll bake 'em. Did you get my favorite, the chocolate chip kind with macadamia nuts?"

"Yeah, I got 'em."

"Thanks, Mom." He kissed me on the forehead. "You're a sweet, kindly, cute mom."

Argh. Either I'm going to have to put on a tougher image, or I'm going to have to stop buying cookie dough.

--Karen H.