It’s just my face

The week before last, our neighbors had their granddaughters in town for a visit, and our girls love to have a couple of other girls to hang and play with who are just a couple doors down.

So, while they visited, they played a lot outside and in one another’s homes.

It was a great time and I’m always excited for them when they can all be together.

After they left to return home, Sprite asked me, “Mom, do you like my friend?”

I said, “yeah. How come you ask that?”

“Well, she said she doesn’t think you like her because you always give her the face.”

“The face?”

“Yeah, it makes her think you don’t like her.”

I’m slightly offended, then remember I suffer from resting bleep face.

So, I replied, “sweetie, it’s just my face. It has nothing to do with how much I do or don’t like someone. Don’t I give you that face all the time?”

“Yeah, I know. That’s what I told her.”

Now I’m trying to stifle the belly laughter that is quickly developing.

So, disclaimer: I have a medical condition.

It’s my face.

Don’t take it personally.

But, in the same breath, it’s a great filter for those who can see past the “it’s just my face” condition.

Y’all know you who you are.

Thanks for not taking my face at ‘face’ value.