Yesterday afternoon, after Bill got home from school, I ran over to the grocery store for a few items. Alone.
As the teenager who bagged my three gallons of milk and 20 pounds of dog food hauled my stuff out to my van we talked about the bizarre weather. It had been 60 degrees the day before, but we had gotten about an inch of snow that morning. The winds were pretty fierce, and at times the conditions were white-out.
As he placed the bags around the double stroller and the big diaper bag in the back of the van, he told me how he had called his parents and asked them to come get him out of school because of the conditions.
I have no idea what his parents said. I considered briefly what I would have said to my teenaged son, but was more struck by the fact that he was telling me this. Did I not look more like his parents then someone his age? I pondered. This conversation seemed more appropriate between two teens than between a teen and a strange parental unit.
As I got in the van, I glanced in the mirror. Could I still pass myself off as a twenty-something? I wondered. Perhaps…the knit hat disguises the mom-hairdo and the winter coat hides the t-shirt with dried baby spit-up…perhaps I don’t look as old as I feel.
It was quite a cheery thought as I maneuvered my twelve passenger van with five car seats through the snowy streets. Quite a cheery thought.