My family was at our annual church picnic this past weekend. As I was sitting there in the on again, off again sunshine, enjoying food other people had cooked for me, my son came up, looked at my head and exclaimed "oh no, Mom!" Panicked, I thought he'd spied a bug or something IN my hair and started swatting at my head. Nope. On his closer inspection, he said he saw "some" gray hairs. I laughed, knowing my natural state is at least 50% gray these days, and said "yes" there are "some grays" there. He told me--complete with sad face--he didn't want me to get old. There are some issues I have with this scenario.
1. Not want me to get old? The ship has sailed on that dream, my son. Find a new one.
2. Has he truly never noticed in 11 years that every eight weeks or so, my hair changes shades? I mean, seriously. I guess this means he's "all man" now.
Number 2 is in direct opposition with number 3, fair warning.
3. My SON noticed something that I didn't point out directly to him! Yeah!
It's a small victory, but I'll take it.
No comments:
Post a Comment