the "age old" question

its nothing famous. heck, its not even in the local news. it resides in my very own bank of memories. consistently, it.. never fails.

i find myself systematically answering the question before it is even asked.

"no" i reply " they are not my brothers. not my cousins. not even my charges. i am not the nanny." to which they return with some exclamation of how young i am, how i am too young to be a mother, or that there is no way this can be true. liar, liar, pants on fire. some simply sit there with mouth agape and don't chance any further communication. probably because their voice would be so mingled with the shock and horror that runs across their face that it would come out as a mere high pitch squeal that only dogs can understand.

okay. so i am dramatizing this a bit. but seriously, HOW MANY TIMES AM I GOING TO HAVE TO ANSWER THIS QUESTION?! i am a bit annoyed. yes, its good because i will look great at 40, even i admit that. *wink, wink* but i am so tired of the "age old" question that i have even thought of getting a tattoo. across the forehead.



I'M GONNA LOOK CRAZY HOT WHEN I'M 40. lol.

okay, more like

YES, THEY ARE MINE. NO I WAS NOT 12.

i guess some days it just gets old. i need a recording. and how many times can you smile away their shocked expressions? until this phase of life stops i suppose i can glean one comfort from these confrontations. something i realized today.

there is no shame in looking young. the shame comes in acting young. on that page, i'm doing pretty good. i've almost got it all colored in, and its even inside the lines ;)