Halo

Sometimes Mom makes fun of me when I'm trying to show how her how wonderful I am and thus worthy of eating her dinner. She'll say things like, "Stop trying to shine your halo Maria," or she'll say, "Maria your halo is blinding!"

I keep trying to tell her that I am indeed an angel and thus should be given a seat at the table and access to the steak. I need it for my angel nourishment. But she doesn't believe me. Tragic.

Now, thanks to photographic proof obtained during a recent road trip, I think we can all put the angel issue to rest.

Note to Mom: I like my steak medium and I'd like my chair at the head of the table. Thanks!