The bloom is off the rose
I vividly remember the time when, to my daughter, I was the most beautiful woman in the world (as I still am to my son). But times change. Yesterday, as I was putting my daughter to bed, she told me this:
"Mom, Cecily asked me if you were pretty. I said you weren't, but that you had a good heart."
Ouch, but at least I haven't turned into a mean dork in her eyes.