Thank you so much for kicking my butt lately. It is so kind of you to remind me on a daily, no hourly basis, that things are just getting warmed up and I have 8.3 more years of you.
Last night when I went to the Sushi bar with some friends of mine (in their early twenties) it was really great that you made me pull out the grandma reading glasses so I could read the sushi menu. Then, when we left the restaurant you stung me again when the girls (frankly anyone female under 25 at this point can be called a girl) made the comment about how we should meet again because hanging out with me on a slow night for them wasn't so bad since I was twice their age. Ouch.
This week as I have dropped my child off for VBS each morning you have slapped me in the face with the fact that I am BY FAR the oldest parent with a participating child. Yes, Bubba is my youngest, but I still have some time left before I feel like I am twice the age of the girls there too, don't I?
Daily you remind me you are still here and laughing in my face when I run, get out of a chair, climb stairs, rise from sleeping, or any other gross motor movements. Are you kidding me? Please, please tell me that your good friend Fifty will be kinder to me.
First you took my muscles, and gave me aches and pains in return, then you took my eyesight and saddled me with reading glasses, then you took my smooth skin and gave me fly hairs growing out of my back, now you are taking the idea that I am young and fun, and turning me into an old hermit that would rather sit at home and read, sew and watch t.v., than go out to a social event. What is next, Forty? What is next?
Hugs and hairy kisses,