Katie loves to be called "cute". She lives and breathes for someone to say how cute she is. She will often ask me to recall events such as, "Mama, remember that time we were in the store and a lady said I was the cutest thing she'd ever seen? Tell me that story."
I'm often telling her I would much rather have someone tell me that she's kind, or smart, or polite than cute.
This morning I told her to go brush her hair because we needed to leave for Bible study. Ten minutes later I can look at her and tell a brush has not even been waved in her direction.
"But Mama," she tells me when I start to fuss, "I want people to notice my inner beauty, not my outer beauty!"
Great. Now I've apparently given her an excuse to look like white trash.