It is not an unusual occurrence for someone to remark how expressive my children's faces are.
"I know!" I gush. "I can't imagine where they get it from."
Because, well, as amazing as my hubby's smile is (and it really is), he's never been chastised for letting every emotion known to man cross his face in a thirteen second time span.
Me on the other hand?
Well, here's just an everyday, random example...
Over the last month or so, I've noticed that our second, overflow refrigerator just didn't seem to be acting right. I knew it was on it's last legs and every time I went to open it, my face looked like this:
That's the look where a) you're hoping the refrigerator fairy has come to fix the refrigerator or b) it is just plain starting to stink in there. Or it's both.
After bringing it to the attention of the aforesaid hubby who possesses the amazing smile, I had to wait until he was convinced it was actually dying. It took him a while.
That is, until he went outside to get one of his favorite drink and came in disgusted because it was, at best, luke warm.
This is my face when he mentions we might need to get a new outside refrigerator. I'm so glad he thought of that.
Twenty four hours later, guess who now possesses a new-to-us refrigerator bought off of Craigslist? Funny how quickly it all happened once his drink was not up to the chilling standard.
Then someone forgot to call the appliance pick-up service to get the old fridge out of the carport.
It was me. However, I don't like to be reminded.
But then, when I start to think about how an elk skull (long story) hanging on the wall of the carport and a stinky fridge start to make us look to our neighbors, I think that maybe I need to hustle myself.
Good thing there is no HOA here.
After all that, there is a working refrigerator just in time for the holiday events, an old one picked up and our reputation as not-really-rednecks restored in our neighborhood.
This is the face of one happy girl.
Yes, I do wonder where my children have inherited their expressiveness from.