“Is he your grandson” asked the woman?
Hmmm...., once again my graying red hair and clearly mature demeanor led someone to believe that Danny was my grandson.
“Oh, actually he’s my son” I replied and we chatted amiably for a few minutes while she finished with the balloons.
You see I try not to get defensive about this—I just figure I can educate people on the fact that there are all kinds of families. (But come on! I don't look that old!)
Then a few minutes later when I went to the counter to pay, another woman working there asked me,
“so, is he your son?”
But did I actually hear her question? Apparently not.
You see, when she asked me if he were my son my response should have been something along the lines of “why yes he is”. What I instead did, was assume that she too, thought he was my grandson and before she even finished her question I blurted out
“No!!! He is not my son, he’s my grandson!”
Whoops. Which is completely wrong. I was so sure she was going to say the wrong thing I actually corrected her, but of course incorrectly.
“I mean, he is my son, not my grandson,” I very sheepishly tried to explain.
By now the two women were together at the front counter probably wondering whether I was related in any way to the little guy at all.
I have got to learn to listen. The first step they always say is to stop talking so much. Life is so hard sometimes.
-Monica
P.S. Happy Baby Shower A&I! We are so excited for you!
1 comment:
Maybe he has enough charm & energy for two generations?
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