Cover up. Skin bleaching cream. Halloween masks. There are few things I haven’t tried to wipe away the freckles on my face. But nothing’s worked. They’re still there in all their glory. (So much so that I can’t help but think people I talk to are probably playing an imaginary game of connect the dots as they pretend to make eye contact.)
But then one day, I noticed sweet, adorable freckles on my little boy’s nose. Yes, sweet. And adorable. My thoughts went into a tailspin.
How could blotchy pieces of brown be so utterly fantastic on him? It was like his crafty personality beckoned them to his face and said, “If you make me look a bit more innocent than I am, I will rock you.” And they do. And he does.
This summer, as they’ve become more pronounced, people have commented.
“I never noticed he had freckles — they. are. so. cute!”
“What personality they give his face!”
And the real kicker … are you ready? …
“He’s got freckles just like yours!”
Hmm. Maybe I’ve been looking at it all wrong. Maybe these freckles that I’ve loathed for years have been my friend all along. Maybe they’ve made me look far more innocent than I am. Maybe I’ve rocked them.
Either way, I love that when people look at him, they see a tiny part of me. And that’s enough to make me love them.
(But I do love them much more on him. And our matching caterpillar eyebrows? Well, let’s just say he’s the only one rocking those.)
Is there something about yourself you’ve learned to love after seeing it reflected at you in your baby?