Jake and Patrick were doing some kind of chant-dance. I just asked Patrick what they were saying in this picture. "Ooh-ha, ooh-ha. Something like that, Mom."
As usual Jake was the last one to get out of the car when I dropped the kids off at our carpool meeting spot. Just before he closed the door, I turned around in my seat and said, “Bye, J-man, have a great day.”
He gave me his impish sideways grin. “Goodbye, elderly mother.”
I started laughing. “What?”
“Wait.” His eyebrows wrinkled. “What does that mean?”
“Old,” I said, “very old.”
“Oh.” He was visibly thinking, and for a second I thought I might get a compliment, or at least an apology.
Not this morning.
“Well, it is true, Mom. You are really old. Bye.”
It’s a good thing I taught middle school years ago and developed a thick skin. I’ve discovered I need one as a mom, too!
Jen Underwood 
I recently turned 45, which I’m okay with most of the time. But there was a moment a few weeks ago when I wasn’t. My son knew my birthday was approaching and he asked how old I would turn. I answered 45. His response: “Wow Mom, that’s half way to 90!” It took me a couple of hours to recover from that one, thick skin and all.
ouch! I’m glad Jake can’t do that much math yet! I’ll never forget when you were about to turn 40 (and I was only about 2 years away from it), and we were talking about it at writers’ group, and Marian said, “Oh, don’t worry. There’s lots of life after 40.” I still hold onto that comment.
My children do that to me too!