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.