O.K., first, some facts before I get into this story.
Today, I am 49.8 years old. My wife is 43.1 years old. And, our daughter is 10.2 years old and our son is 8.4 years old. Got all that?
Yesterday, my daughter and I were at a baseball game and some man there asked me if she was my daughter (when I was taking her picture with my camera).
Afterwards, I said to my daughter “That was an odd question. Who else would you be? My wife?”
To this, my daughter, said: “Well, Dad, it is possible that he thought I was your grand-daughter.”
Ouch. When she said this, I told her that she was just being nasty and that it was not appreciated.
And, her reply to this was: “No. Honestly, people think that. Remember when we were at the beach on Thursday and I was playing with that little girl that I met there? She asked me if mom was my mother and if you were my grand-father when you two were sitting up on the blanket by her family.”
Oh, just shoot me now. Crap. I am not even officially fifty yet and this stuff is starting?
I knew, having a wife that is nearly seven years younger than me and waiting to have kids until I was almost forty, would lead to this, someday. But, I really thought it would start when I was sixty (and not fifty).
It’s all downhill from here – and fast.