me: “Grace, you know, in one week it will be my birthday”
G: “Really, Mummy?”
me: “Yes, it will. Do you think I’m old?”
G: “No.”
me: “Do you think I’m young?”
G: “No.”
pause
G: “I think you are medium.“
If that’s not the definition of middle-aged, I’m not sure what is!
*****************
me: “Grace, thank you for being so well behaved today. I really appreciated the way you didn’t whine, you listened, and you cooperated.”
G: “You’re welcome, Mummy.” (with smug, know-it-all smile)
me: “Gracie, on days like this you make me want to be the best Mummy I can be for you.”
G: “Well, Mummy, you make me want to be the best daughter I can be for you.”
Tears blurring vision on Route 1.