I have an ongoing quest to remain 29 forever. My children know how much I detest being in my thirties, and I had them convinced for awhile that I was 29. They've been trying to trick me into revealing my true age, and they have succeeded a few times. But I maintain that I am 29 most of the time.
Andrew even knows the proper responses. A typical conversation goes like this:
Mom: Andrew, how old am I?
Andrew: 29
Mom: And how old will I be next year?
Andrew: 29
Mom: And the year after that?
Andrew: 29
Mom: Correct.
Joey is always trying to trick me, and Grace has been asking around (Grandma Jane) to see how old I really am. She even had the nerve to say that Grandma knows everything (because that's what Grandma says), and that she told Grace the truth about my age.
Our breakfast conversation went like this:
Joey: Mom, you're 33. We know it.
Mom: I am not! I'm 29!
Andrew: Then what year were you born?
Mom: Nineteen.....eighty....(thinking, thinking)... three?
Andrew: Yeah right.
Grace: Grandma says you're 33.
Mom: Well, Grandma is old and senile, so I'm 29.
My kids may know I'm lying, but I'll keep it up forever. And ever. And ever.
