The Old and the Young of It

Today K was playing with my calculator and announced that if she added my age, her age, and L's age, the answer is 44. Sheesh, that's old. Then I started doing my own calculations. "No, it's 45".

"Huh?"

"45. 34+7+4."

"Oh, I put in 33."

Of course, then I had the mental argument with myself of was I 33 or 34 and did I really care enough to do the math. You know you're getting old when you don't mark the *exact date* you turn 7 AND A HALF.

But in addition to the Easter cookies, I can console my aging soul with the knowledge that I still have teen-worthy fabulous hearing.

On Sunday, we celebrated Easter with a few friends, including one boy who has recently reached the dignity of teenhood. As we sat chatting over dessert, I heard a strange high-pitched whine. After a minute (when the whine was getting *really* annoying) I noticed that said teenager was holding his phone and a suspicious grin.

"That's that ring that only teenagers are supposed to be able to hear, isn't it?"

That caused an immediate reaction from all the adults of "What?" "You can hear it?" " I can't hear anything!" His dad could hear it, I could hear it, and another guy leaned extremely close, then declared that he could hear it now that he knew what to listen for. Uh-huh, riiiiiiiiight.

So even if the senility has set in during my dotage, I can still hear those pesky whippersnappers and their newfangled...whatchacallit...phony thingys!