With my birthday looming on the horizon, I have been thinking about aging. During my first year of teaching, a student innocently asked me a loaded question (side-note…the thought that my first year of teaching was 10 years ago is nauseating):
Student: Miss R. (insert maiden name here), are you old?
Me: Not really…why? Do I have gray hair?
Student: (studies my head) Well, no. But you got black coming out!
I am assuming I desperately needed to get my roots done. I admit, I am a chemically dependent blond. 🙂
Flash-forward several years:
Frick: Mama. You’re old.
Me: Thanks, Frick. I appreciate that.
Frick: But you don’t have a beer on your face.
Me: No, Frick, I don’t. Beer is a drink for grown-ups.
Frick: Noooo Mama! Daddy’s old and he has a beer on his face.
Me: Oh! You mean beard!
At least BP was lumped into the “old” category, too.