Old.

On Wednesday, Sarah asked me how old I was. I first told her 79, and then I told her “you don’t ask a woman her age.”

She responded with “but you’re my mommy!”

Two days later, I wanted to blog about it — but I initially forgot what it was that prompted her to say “but you’re my mommy!” I told her, “Sarah, I can’t remember these things. I am old.”

To which she responded, “You’re not old! You’re not growing a beard.”

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