This morning I was facetiming with my mother. She's coming to town tomorrow for the holidays, so I wanted to get her flight info and wish her safe travels. I was sitting in an easy chair by the window during the call, and rather than allow my face to be darkened by backlighting, I turned sideways so that my folded legs were against one arm and my back rested against the other. It wasn't the most comfortable of positions, so I was wiggling a bit to find a sweet spot as we chatted.
"Do you have to go to the bathroom?" my mother asked me.
(Full confession: As a kid, I was notorious for getting caught up in something and rather than pausing, I would just do a little dance until the moment was more convenient to visit the restroom. My family might say that I never outgrew that particular quirk. Whatever...)
"No!" I answered, and started to explain, but then I stopped and said, "Mom! I think now that I'm fifty you can stop asking me that question."
"No I can't," she replied. "You'll always be my little girl."
"Do you have to go to the bathroom?" my mother asked me.
(Full confession: As a kid, I was notorious for getting caught up in something and rather than pausing, I would just do a little dance until the moment was more convenient to visit the restroom. My family might say that I never outgrew that particular quirk. Whatever...)
"No!" I answered, and started to explain, but then I stopped and said, "Mom! I think now that I'm fifty you can stop asking me that question."
"No I can't," she replied. "You'll always be my little girl."
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