Sometimes you can only laugh

"Mommy, I so hansome."
"Uh huh" I say, absent-mindedly, eyes never leaving the computer screen.
"Mommy, I so hansome."
"Yes, you are, dear."
"Mommy, mommy, I so hansome!" Sighing, I resign myself to the fact that I'm not about to be left alone anytime soon unless I give my son some attention.
I look over at my 3 year-old son, the spitting image of his daddy at that age. His warm brown eyes sparkle, his grin as about as infectious as it gets. Dark blond hair all spiked up. "Yes, Sweetie," I coo, "you are very handsome."
I turn back to the computer screen and am reaching for the mouse when it hits me--I didn't spike his hair this morning.
Calling him back over, I look at him more closely. His normally blond hair has a slight reddish tint to it. My mind races to figure out what type of styling products I might have that are red. Looking closer, the smell gives it away--ketchup. He had taken the ketchup I gave him to eat with his corndog to fix his hair.
"Mommy, I so hansome!"
Yes, you are, Joshua. Yes, you are.