Every year we have this cluster of celebrations in our family. My kids’ birthdays are May 13 and May 15th. Mother’s Day always falls right in around there, too, this year sandwiched in between.
Unbelievable as it is to me, my oldest turned twenty-two yesterday. That’s the same age I was when I got married. Whoa if true! And it is true.
As an official adult, they spent their birthday at work. They’re employed as assistant manager at a retail store that caters largely to children, and as a result often come home with adorable or hilarious stories.
Yesterday’s tale involved a conversation with a little girl who was celebrating her own birthday and, of course, had to let everyone know. It went like this —
My kid: “That’s cool. It’s my birthday, too! How old are you?”
Little girl: “Six! How old are you?”
My kid: “Twenty-two.”
Little girl: “Oh.” Pause. “Do you have dentures?”
What’s young and what’s old? It’s all relative, isn’t it?
Gen BLT 