R calls it the way he sees it.
The boys are coming home from school with a neighbor who graciously picks them up on Mondays, when it’s all I can do to leave work just in time to get home to meet them.
B — Look at my mom’s clothes! Do you like them? She has to look beautiful because she is a teacher.
R — You do look beautiful, Mom.
B — You look really beautiful! You look like a dream girl!