Thursday, 16 August 2007

Getting old

It’s my birthday tomorrow. I’ll be 38 years old. Thirty-FREAKING-eight. That’s old.

I had a laugh with Boy Oneder and Middleman the other day when they were complaining about having to get up early to go to camp. I told them to count their blessings, as their father and I had to walk 2 miles uphill BOTH ways to school and back, barefoot, in 6 feet of snow. The following conversation then took place:

Middleman pipes up with, “Mom, were there dinosaurs when you were little?”

I chuckled under my breath and replied, “Of COURSE there were! On top of all the snow, Auntie Joanne and I had to run most days to get away from the t-Rexes!”

At that point, Boy Oneder, the resident bubble-burster says, “She’s lying Middleman. Dinosaurs were on the earth millions of years ago, not when Mom was small.”

Middleman, almost disappointed at the truth, says, “Did you have cars back then?”

I responded, “Yes, but have you ever watched ‘The Flintstones’?

“Yes…”

“Well, when I had my first car, I had to run like they do to make it work.”

Bubble-burster jumps in again…”Liar!”

Damn. Foiled again.

I now realize that I *am* old. My 11 year old is too smart to buy all of my tall tales…and he even tells his brother about it. He is big enough to borrow my Crocs too. Sigh…next thing, he won’t believe in Santa or the Tooth Fairy.

And so, another year has come and gone and I will be 38. 38 and old. Pin It

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