This conversation is occurring literally in the middle of McAlister’s, amid people who already appear to find our family fascinating. We are, as we often are, being watched.
It is late. We are tired. The day has been long, as has the week and fall season. We are treating all of us to a dinner out. (And to be perfectly honest, the cupboard is bare because the recent days have indeed been rather “nuts.”)
I have just taken another bite of my sandwich when my daughter asks me if I have some old glasses she can borrow. I respond that I don’t. So, she goes on to narrow down her request to, “You know Mom, like…old reading glasses. Granny-style.”
Well, I do have reading glasses (fairly recent accessories…), but they’re kinda funky. That way I know they won’t disappear with the other adult in our home who also wears reading glasses, albeit a stronger magnification. I think for a minute and then ask her why she needs a pair.
“Tomorrow is ‘Senior Citizens Day.’ We’re all dressing up as old people.”
Out of the mouth of a teenager.
Huh? Uh, thanks…
“Mom, well… You’re old, but I didn’t mean you were that old!”
At this point I’m speechless.
Mark sits across from me and is sputtering into his plate. Fortunately his mouth isn’t full. The other two kids kick in, laughing.
The restaurant has become quieter. People are trying to catch what is being said that has us giggling and laughing so.
I glare at Mark when he looks up and tell my daughter we can look around the house. She wants to call her grandmother to see if she has a pair, after all, “She is a senior citizen.” However, grandma is out of town.
We get up to leave and I happen to glance over to my right. A woman is unabashedly taking us all in.
I wink at her and promise myself that tomorrow I will move my “old bones” and get to grocery shopping.
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