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The conversation began with a blurt from the back seat and ended with the biggest compliment my mother-in-law may have ever received–from a seven year old.

“Mom, just think…in three more years you’ll be forty.”

“Yup,” I said.  Only it wasn’t me I was seeing as forty, but my parents.  Which would mean I’m ten–the same age my daughter will be in three years when I’m forty and waving my hand in front of my face in disbelief.

“But don’t worry,” my daughter continued, “you only look like you’re thirty-two.”

“Thirty-two, huh?”  I relished the compliment for most of a second ’til my daughter added, “And Nanny looks like she’s thirty.”

In reflex I yanked the rear-view mirror my way and looked at what the last seven years had done.  Then I clarified. “So, Nanny looks younger than mommy?”

My daughter hesitated, understanding the dilemma, then added, “well, you actually look the same age–you both look thirty-two.”



Seems we both win.  Me by five.  And my mother-in-law…ahem…

my mother-in-law by thirty-four.


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