We cannot really love anybody with whom we never laugh. (Agnes Reppier)

There's no photo today, just a verbal visual. But to fully appreciate today's story, you'll need to have a little background.

First, I got a haircut on Sunday. I was trying to grow it out long again, but I reached the point that it was just horrible. Too long to be stylish, and too short to style. I probably would have held out, but with the trip to NYC coming up in two weeks, I wanted something nice. So when I took my son to the mall, I impulsively walked into Regis Haircutters. I got lucky; the girl who did my hair took the time to listen to what I was trying to say and actually gave me a really cute style. It's short. Very short.

Now let's go back a few years. After my divorce, my oldest child decided that she did not want her mother to date. She was very vocal on this idea, and when words failed she took action. Tears, temper tantrums, pouting, faked illnesses...nothing was too much effort if it could possibly stop me from going out socially. She didn't even approve when I went to the movies with my extremely gay co-worker. (My history of dating gay guys is probably a story for another day.)

Fast forward to yesterday. My son and I were in the car, talking on our way to wherever we were going. I don't remember how the subject came up, but my son announces that he doesn't want a stepfather. Huh? First of all, he already has a stepmother, so why not a stepfather. Plus, there isn't anybody in the picture right now being considered for that position. But he's very adamant -- he doesn't think that I should date anyone until after he moves out because he's too old for a stepfather.

So now we're up to today's story, and the reason why my youngest is my favorite child. (Today, anyway.) It's another conversation in the car, this time with my youngest and her best friend. Something was said, and I asked my daughter what shethought about me dating. Her immediate response: Go for it, mom. In fact, she suggested that we go find a man for me right away. Let me tell you, two 14-year-olds can come up with some pretty interesting ways for a divorced mom to meet a cute guy. My favorite was the suggestion that I do a catwalk in the middle of the street. My daughter offered to walk in front, blowing air at me so that my hair would flow gently out behind me as I walked. Best Friend would follow behind, singing: "I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my clothes, too sexy..."

It was the song that got me.