I love it when I'm out and about with my brothers and people mistake me for their mother. Not
For example, the summer after I graduated from high school I took my brother Aaron to get a haircut at the Supercuts down the road (they never do a good job, in case you were wondering). He got his hair cut in preparation for school pictures later that week and I got mine trimmed. When I went to pay at the front counter, the woman said to me, "Is he you're son?" and she smiled. I think my eyes got bigger than they ever have before. I quickly said, "Oh, no! I'm his older sister; he's thirteen and I'm eighteen. I am not his mother." Seriously? We're only five years apart.
More recently that hasn't happened to me because my brothers have all grown and I have not. By the end of the year, I'm going to be the shortest in the family. However, yesterday I was with my brothers at CVS pharmacy waiting in a huuuuge line to pick up a prescription. We were all playing the hand slapping game (it's more fun than it sounds) and the little old woman behind me said, "Are those your boys? You are such a young mother." By now I've learned to just laugh about it, but I told her they're my brothers. She said she assumed they were my sons because of how close we seemed, but she said I also seemed very young to have boys that big. Well YEAH! I'm almost twenty. David is almost twelve. James is almost ten. They're both about an inch or so shorter than me.
Do I look old enough to have two children in their double digits?
I doubt it.