Thank goodness for Tyson (and of course my husband!). Tyson could care less if I'm perfect or not, likely because he doesn't worry about it himself. I can show up to see Tyson in my grubby jeans and old coat, and all he cares about is that I'm there. Well, I'm sure the treats help, too.
I wish people were more like Tyson and stopped judging me and all rest of you, too, on how perfect we all are or not.
I'm lucky. Lucky to have that acceptance, and not just to have it, but to know that when you are loved and wanted, no one cares if you've done your hair, or spackled on your face for the day. Come as you are! Bring love, bring happiness, and bring a yummy treat, too. Cake, anyone? I prefer blueberry pie. Tyson? He's not picky.
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