Moms

I always thought I knew the kind of parent I wanted to be. You know they type - the sexy MILF, the woman who doesn't look old enough or fat enough to have a kid. At the same time, she's totally oblivious to how she affects men. Her children are always well groomed, in matching, color-coordinated clothes, smiling, polite, etc.

All that changed over an Orange Mocha Frappuccino Light this morning.

The woman was obviously middle-aged, a bit overweight, not especially fashionable. The kid was wearing black pants and a T-shirt. Nothing remarkable - except that I couldn't take my eyes off of them. The woman was animated, making large-sweeping gestures with her hands. The kid, or rather the teenager, was totally engaged; responsive, involved, and enjoying himself.

When it was time for the woman to leave, the teenager, who was actually starting his shift at Starbucks, showed no signs of embarrassment, didn't even look around the room as he gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Now, *that* is the kind of mom I want to be. (Of course, if I'm a MILF too, I won't complain!)