Topher and I ran a quick errand last Friday afternoon. When we returned home I pulled his car seat out of the back of Bryan's car and started to carry him inside. A neighbor that I've seen and waved at but never spoken to called out from across the street, "Congratulations!" I realized she was talking about Topher and I smiled and said thank you.
An older fellow was standing with her and her young daughter. He spoke up, "I don't live here, I'm her dad," and he pointed to the neighbor. Then he went on. "When I saw you get out of your car I thought you were sixteen! I didn't think you were old enough to have a baby!"
To that I laughed, smiled again and said, "I am definitely not sixteen, but thank you. And this is my fifth baby."
He responded with a shocked expression as his daughter said, "Oh that's right, you have lots of kids."
Today is my thirty-eighth birthday, but it's nice to know that if I wear my Gryffindor t-shirt and cuffed jeans and a messy bun, and if the person seeing me is across the street with possibly failing vision, I look like a teenager. Sounds like a birthday gift to me!
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