Call Me Methuselah

One day last week, after a particularly lovely day at work, my children decided it was not quite time for mommy to relax. While we were in the car, they felt the need to discuss aging and gender roles. Out of the blue...

Babystar: Mommy, you're really old old old old old old old old old old. (That's not a direct quote. There may have been more olds.)

Me: No! I'm not that old.

Boystar: Yeah, mom, you really are. You're, like, twenty-six.

Bank voles eat their young, as do house finches and wolf spiders. And speaking of wolf spiders. Once we got home, Baby decided it had been too l ong since we played "torment mommy with the picture of the wolf spider" in this, my vintage copy of The Bug Book. Vintage. Not old.