As we inch our way ever further into our forties, Hubby and I have gotten into the habit of pointing out signs of our mutual aging to each other.
When I cut Hubby's hair, I can't resist pointing out how the gray has taken over. I'll say, "Baby, you're old."
When I fall asleep four minutes into a TV show I couldn't wait to see and Hubby wakes me up at the end, he will say, "Baby, you're old."
It's a little sad what passes for entertainment around here...
Today, we mark another "because we're old" milestone as Son-One and his longtime girlfriend (three years next month) are hosting Thanksgiving. All we have to do is show up with the sweet potatoes, the cranberries and five extra mouths to feed.
We have a child old enough (and mature enough!) to host Thanksgiving.
Baby, we are soooooo old.
The Skin of Our Teeth
1 day ago