I've always looked older than I am. While moving my sister in to her first year of college, the RA mistook me as the incoming freshman. I had just finished 6th grade. I guess my body fooled itself into being older than it was, also. I hit 5 feet in about the 3rd grade. I got my 12-year molars when I was 8. I was also the first one in my Kindergarten class to have a library card, so clearly I was more intellectually mature as well.
I always thought all that stuff was really cool; I didn't have to waste as much time being a kid as everyone else. Now, I'm dying for people to see that I really am still just a kid.
The first incident came while at the beach. I brought the two kids I babysit for to Walden Pond for a nice fun day in the sun. As I was lying on our blanket, the guy next to me struck up a conversation with me. It wasn't a friendly "Cute kids," or a simple "What a nice day, huh?" No, it was a bold "Are they both yours?" As in, "wow I could see you having one kid, but two? You waste no time! " Let's review... the kids at 9 and 11... therefore I was 8 when the oldest was born. EIGHT. How old do I look that it would be even remotely socially acceptable for me to have a child that is that age?!
Okay, I'll let it slide. Maybe he just couldn't think of any other conversation starters. I have heard that "Hey" is so last fall. But then the next day, it happened again. The children and I were having lunch with one of the neighbor boys, when he asks me, "What grade is your son going into?" My son? I didn't even have a boy with me that he could have mistaken for my son. He just assumed I had one. I guess I just have that matronly feel to me. Or maybe its the extra baby weight that I haven't gotten around to losing. Or my contempt for the world was mistaken for a tragic case of post-partum depression. Must have been one of the three.
The third case was just depressing. I was about to get in the car, then realized I didn't have my sunglasses. I looked around the downstairs, then asked one of my charges if I had left them upstairs. She looked at me, unsure whether I was making a joke, and said, "they're on your head." Yes, I know, this stuff happens all the time. To people with Alzheimers. Good Lord, I'm turning into my mother.
At least I still won't have to worry about being carded.
