Yesterday, as I stepped out onto the front porch with Isaac to enjoy the lovely weather, a gaggle of pre-teen neighbor girls gathered in my front yard to ogle Isaac, offer small presents of leaves and rocks to Isaac, and ask whether they could pick Isaac up. His red hair has been quite a hit amongst the little girls of the neighborhood ever since we moved in.
One of them, who I hadn't met before, asked whether I was Isaac's babysitter.
"I'm the mom," I responded. "I'm 26."
She looked me up and down, eyes wide, and shook her head. "No. Way."
I'd like to thank Olay Daily Facials, jeans with added spandex, my sense of humor, and the fact that gray hairs blend when you're a dishwater blonde.