Old

Sunday Deborah was fascinated by the "lines" on my forehead.  She wanted to know why I had lines and she didn't.  I explained to her that when she's a Mom she'll be lucky enough to get lines too.  She liked that idea.  {Oh, how I smiled inside!  Brilliantly marketed.  Who needs Botox?}  She then wanted to know why I had so many lines?  So I explained that I have a line for each child.  And, it's true.  I really do.  I have one line per child.  To this, my confident Deborah replied that the shortest line must be hers!

The conversation didn't bother me much.  I've accepted the "lines" on my forehead as the inevitable result of raising my eyebrows in warning to my children too often.  My Aunt Elsie warned me it would happen, but it was better than yelling at them.  And, besides, it hasn't really hit me that it's a warning that old age is approaching.

But, yesterday I went to visit the Rheumatologist.  I can never decide whether those visits make me feel super young, since I'm typically one of the younger looking in the waiting room, or super old since I'm in the waiting room.  Then I was diagnosed with Bursitis.  Bursitis.  It just sounds like something caused by old age, doesn't it?

But nothing tops tonight's dinner conversation.  I was sharing with the kids a little story from the book I'm currently reading.  In order to set the scene, I was explaining a little about the traditions of 1840's.  Johnathon looked at me and said, "Mom, were you alive then?" Oh, yes, he was sincere. No joking. No kidding.

Now, I feel old.  :)