About rugrats, minivans, The South, photography, farmer's markets, puberty, Army, snotty noses, blankies, movies, hugs, autism, make believe, homeschooling, sibling rivalry, car seats, weather, in-laws, scribbles, marriage, and somewhere in there, a stoned British reporter.

Saturday, June 26, 2010


Lindsay: How old are you?

Me: 29.

Lindsay: So on your birthday you're going to be 30?

Me: Yup.

Lindsay: That's old.

Me: *looks sad* It is?

Lindsay: *puts her arm around me* Don't worry it's not THAT old. When you get to be like. . . .48, then you'll be REALLY old.

Me: Ah.


Jim said...

Grandpa says, "Thanks, Lindsay," since I remember 48 like it was just last year! :o)

I remember visiting my grandparents when I was her age and thinking they were old, and have recently realized they were probably not that much older than my age now. :o)

Leslie said...

Since I have only 2 years left before 48, I guess I don't qualify yet.

As if.

Jim said...

We really, REALLY have to watch "The Money Pit" while y'all are up!