Every time I visit my Aunt Esther and Uncle Jason and their five kids (One of whom I’ve yet to meet.) it’s always fun to ask each child how old they are and gush over how much they’ve grown. In return, they all love to ask me how old I am. On our most recent visit, when asked by their daughter Joy how old I was, I proudly told her and then added, “I’m a grown up!”
“No!” she insisted, not wanting to believe that she could possibly have a grown up cousin, “You’re still a kid!”
“Not anymore,” I told her. “I’m twenty now so that makes me all grown up.” She laughed and shook her head yet again.
“You can’t be a grown up!” she protested. And when I asked her why, she very sincerely explained, “Because you have a mommy.”
Sitting across the room, our grandmother broke into sudden fits of laughter, having over heard the conversation. She leaned forward as I explained “Grandma is your mommy’s mommy. Does that make your mommy a kid too?”
After much very serious thought, she lifted her head and nodded decidedly, “Yes.”
Well, so much for growing up.