I nodded my head and replied, "I'm sure they are." I decided to leave it at that--agreeing with her point without acknowledging she had misjudged my relationship to the child who was with me. Sure, I could have said, "I wouldn't know because this is my son," or "I look forward to finding out in ten or fifteen years," or "Please stop talking and just give me my receipt," but I decided there was no need to make her feel bad about making a perfectly reasonable assumption.
I should be offended, shouldn't I? It should really bother me that someone thinks I'm so old that this three year-old must be my grandkid, because he couldn't possibly be my son. But, I don't mind. I understand. When most people my age are hanging out with a three year-old, that three year-old is usually a grandchild.
|Kid or grandkid?|
My doctor wasn't sure. Last week I had to go in to take care of yet another of those maladies that occurs with advancing age. I took my youngest son with me. Armed with the information on my chart, the doctor asked, "Is this your son or your grandson? Because based on your age it could be either one."
It's true. I'm old enough that if I hadn't been so socially awkward in my teens--and twenties--and thirties--I could have been a grandpa by now. But, I'm not. My kids are 11, 9, 4, and 3. They're great! I'm still in "enjoy them while you can" mode with them. It'll be several years before I get any grandchildren that I can enjoy. I'm looking forward to it. I've been told they're the best.