We’re currently in a campground. It’s a nice little co-op for Escapees members in Benson, AZ. As far as I know it’s not exclusively 55+…. but it might as well be. That’s fine. We’re used to being the weird young family. Or maybe, just maybe, they thought Scott was 55+ when he checked us in. Ohhhhh…. burn!
This morning Scott was in town working at Starbucks. I was outside with the kids in the “yard”. We were playing, picking up and drying out (we managed to get all of our outside stuff drenched…. again…. so much for “desert”).
Up drove a golf cart and the man said (in my general direction), “Oh…. look who has the grandkids today?!”
Where? Where are the grandparents? I will happily hand the kids over to them and kick back. Hell, it doesn’t have to be their grandparents. Any will do. Where are they?
Ohhhhhh…. you mean me, Sir. You mean…. I…. must… be… their… grandmother? Hold the @$%@$ on a minute. That’s not even close to funny (and no – it wasn’t said as a joke).
I’m 38. I’m blond. I may have a little pudge right now, but I still work out. I wouldn’t bat an eye at doing a quick 5 mile hike. I’m working on doing a legit military style hanging pull-up…. but I can squeeze out a couple of those stupid swinging Cross-fit “pull-ups” (with all due respect, of course…. yes… they’re still pull-ups… sure, they count). I don’t have many wrinkles and you certainly can’t see them from 10 ft away. I was even wearing my new Converse sneakers and jeans which just screams Gen X and/or Gen Y.
My point? I have never, in my life, been mistaken as a grandparent. Both the people in the cart were looking at me. Explain, please.
Just to be a bit of an ass, I made a show of looking around for grandparents. Then I smiled sweetly at them with a touch of a confused brow. They drove away without another word.
Don’t do that again, Old People. Never ever again. I’m decades from being ready for that.
Ladies and Gentlemen…. the Real McCoys:
Although Grandad has passed, he’s never forgotten. Here he is with mom, myself and his parents.
