Last Sunday, and Newest Niece’s baptism party, the discussion turned to my recent milestone birthday. Brother-in-law #2 asked me if I felt old. “Not particularly,” I said. “Not really that different from a month ago.” He said that my turning 30 probably made my sisters and brother feel old, since they are all older than me.
“Well, Big Sister #2?” I asked, “Does my being 30 make you feel old?” I was particularly interested in her reply, as I distinctly remember her shock at learning that I had started drinking coffee. (Yes, that was a few years ago.)
“Actually, it would probably hit my friend Jane the hardest,” she replied. “She saw a picture of you graduating or something a few years ago, and said, ‘Now that one hurts.’”
Apparently, the first time Jane ever met me, I had just come from the kitchen and proudly announced to those congregated in the living room that I had just made a sandwich. “So what?” people replied. Someone added, probably my brother, “I make sandwiches all the time.”
“Yes,” I said, “but I just made a sandwich all by myself.”
So the jolt of realizing that little kid was now old enough to have a Ph.D. was a bit startling to Jane.
Interesting side note: Now that I am 30, I rarely make sandwiches all by myself because The Husband spoils me rotten and usually makes them for me.
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