Getting Old

No bones about it. Every day I get older. I do not like the sound of 28. Oh my. What a harsh reality. Something's gotta give.

I think I've been looking at too many adventurous young-uns.

Ya really.

My little tykes don't give a second thought to growing old. Except as an excuse to not do something. Peter has been saying "Maybe when I'm 4..." a lot. "When will you be able to go to the bathroom by yourself?" "When will you start putting on your own clothes?" "Want to learn to hang like a monkey on the bar {at gymnastics}?"

"How bout when I'm older? Ya. When I'm 4."

That's gonna be a busy year.

For now, they are keeping busy with new Little People sets I found on ebay. Very fun, except when they both want to play with the same piece. And I can almost hear myself aging. Like the loud crinkle of those new Sun Chips bags.

How can my baby be 44 months old today? What?

Think the trees worry about getting old? 

They still look beautiful, even without their makeup on.

So, I'm told -- "Stand tall". Like a tree. The passing years will only strengthen.