How Old My Kids Think I Am

I'm pretty sure if you asked either Josiah or David how old I am, they could give you the correct answer.  But the other day during lunch, one of the boys asked Moriah how old I am, and her answer was quick and confident.  "Two hundred," she said.  :)

Of course, you wouldn't necessarily expect a three-year-old to remember her mother's age, right?  But what about a six-year-old?  Would you think that he would be capable of saying, in all seriousness, what Shav asked me tonight: "Mom, when you were a little girl, was there electricity?"  :)

The family laughed when he said it, but then Tobin spoke up indignantly on my behalf.  "There was CARS, dude!" he said to correct his little brother.  Never mind the incorrect grammar, at least he had my birth placed in the correct century.  :)

I can't blame them too much, however, because I well remember one of my favorite teachers during elementary school.  Whenever we would ask her how old she was, she would laughingly say something like, "Oh, a hundred and three."  Well, I knew good and well she was teasing; but I wouldn't have been surprised if she had been close to that, as old as she seemed to my young mind.  Now that I stop and figure out how old she really was back then, I realize that she was probably right around my current age--if not a little younger.  And yet she seemed so ancient!

Just like I must seem to my kids.  :)