I went to pick up my son from school.
“Mom, give me your hand.”
When I held out my hand, he gently slid a jelly ring onto my fourth finger.
“Another proposal? You want to marry me, don’t you?”
I couldn’t stop laughing. Three years ago, he had knelt down and offered me a dandelion he had picked by the roadside. Having received two proposals—both from my son instead of my husband—I couldn’t help but smile.