So the Fabulous Foursome is once again in the car on our way to the Dollar Store today. (We eat through rubber bouncy balls like jellybeans around here.) We come to a red light. I rub my eyes, turn my neck to the side to stretch it and - kazing!- "Ow."
Really? When did this happen? When did stretching my neck to the side become an actual exercise in pain? I so need to get back to working out. And Pledge these dusty bones off before they ossify in to stone.
"I'm getting old."
"What, Mommy?" the backseat says.
"Nothin' Bud."
"What did you said?" the backseat is still concerned.
"Nothing, Honey. Mommy feels old is all I said."
"Oh. Are you going to go to..." he searches his filing cabinet of "heard once but never used" phrases and locks in on the one that fits this equation, "to doggie heaven, Mommy?"
Doggie heaven. It's what we talked about the other day. I mentioned it - sort of - when chatting with him about dogs who are getting up in their years (ie: our sweet newly 8 year old Sadie) and what happens to them when they get very very old. Guess that pretty much sums up his thought bubble, eh?
"No Honey, I'm not that good." And not that old, thank you very much.
I think we should forgo Costco and go directly to mass this Sunday. Bless his sweet little confused heart. Doggie heaven. If only.
2 comments:
The other day Madeline asked me if I would "go to her gymnastics meets when she is in college, if I am still ALIVE."
oh my goodness, crystal! don't these kids know mid thirties is the new twenties? :)
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