Beauty--and age--is in the eye of the beholder

The other day, Christa said to me, "Mom, I thought you were younger than you are."

I didn't say anything because, well, what do you say when your child says something like that?

She continued, "Until you told me how old you are, I thought you were in your 30s."

Sigh.

Nope.

Christa missed my 30s.

I have the distinct pleasure of knowing I am one of the oldest parents in Christa's third grade class. I don't wear a t-shirt announcing this fact. But I did have another mom make sure I didn't overlook this reality.

A few years ago, I was attending a school function. A mom I know came up to me and said, "My brother was looking around and he told me that some of the parents looked a lot older than most of the parents here."

Now, she's talking to me and looking right at me. And I know she knows Christa is my caboose kiddo.

I wanted to say something snarky like, "Oh really? Who was your brother staring at during the kids' musical peformance?" But I just smiled and then went out and stocked up on the latest anti-wrinkle creams.

Thinking Out Loud Here: Most days, I don't think about how old I am. And my sweet daughter thinks I'm in my 30s. Works for me. Christa looks at me through eyes of love--and that seems to have a wonderful anti-aging effect.