So I had been ever-so-slightly bummed about turning 40 last week. I’d referred to it as my “next 39th birthday” until it was pointed out (by my son who obviously never wants another gift as long as he lives) that I was fooling no one.
And the thing is? 40 doesn’t feel so bad now that I’ve worn it for a few days. I had about decided it wasn’t worth all the blues. But then the peapod squad just REALLY drove it all home for me today.
Sweet Pea: Mommy? Are you older than Daddy?
Me: Yes. As a matter of fact, I’m almost 4 years older than Daddy. But I don’t look like it.
Split Pea: Except that you ARE bigger than Daddy. So I guess actually you DO look older than Daddy.
Sweet Pea: Yeah, he’s right. You look a lot bigger and older than Daddy.
Snap Pea: But you’re not older just because you’re bigger, right Mommy? You’re older because you’ll die a long, long time before Daddy.
So now I’m feeling pretty fabulous. And by “fabulous” I mean absolutely decrepit and needing copious amounts of dark chocolate to get over this new bit of depression.
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