We've Been Simpsonized!

I found a great website today called SimpsonizeMe.com. It allows you to upload your photos and get a Simpsonized version of yourself. This beauty is me:In real life, I have a chin.

This is my boy:
In real life, he has large ears. They are not, however, as large as these appear. Please understand that my son chose these ears for his Simpson. One you've been Simpsonized, you can tweak yourself (um, bad choice of words), changing hair, facial features, ears, body type, etc. M. chose these ears. He's proud of his ears and I'm proud of him. I have a soft spot for kids with big ears. I had two boys in my 3rd grade class last year who had exceptionally large ears. They were so freaking cute. I always wanted to hug them. The boys, I mean. Not the ears. But I didn't hug the boys. No hugging. Unless the child initiates the hug. They didn't initiate. No hugs. I'm off track.

I had big ears myself when I was little, but I finally grew into them. I did, right? Please don't even tell me if I didn't. I don't even want to know. Anyway, I know that big-eared children often have to withstand some occasional teasing. Dumbo. Can you fly? Can you hear me? Brats. Children can be brutal.

Adults can be brutal, too. When M. was in kindergarten, I took him to a craft show on the green in the center of our town. We were walking along, looking around, holding hands, when I realized M. was sobbing. I picked him up and asked him what was wrong. He said, "That man made fun of me." "Oh, M." I said. "I don't think that a man would make fun of a little kid." M. insisted that this man did. I asked him what the man did. M. pulled outward on each of his ears with his finger and stuck out his tongue. I was furious. I asked M. which man it was and he pointed ahead at a man in a jean jacket and blue jeans with scraggly hair, who, may I just say, was no Al Pacino. I started marching toward the guy, ready to rip his head off when M. said, "What are you going to do, Mommy? You're not going to say anything, right?" I kept marching and he went on, "When somebody says something mean, you have to just ignore them." Clunk. Stopped me in my tracks. My boy listened and learned and was a better man than I was. But what I wouldn't have given to . . . Okay, I'm taking a deep breath. It was 8 years ago. Let it go.

M. recently reported that a girl at school was looking through their 8th grade yearbook and saw a picture of him from when he was younger. She told him he's really grown into his ears. Sweet.

Oh, almost forgot. In real life, M. has a chin, too.