Yesterday was my birthday.
I was feeling okay about turning 38 (Yikes!), okay enough that I didn't bother with the "Oh, I'll be 29. Again."
Until Hannah and I went to pick out my birthday cake.
We went to Pamplemousse in downtown Redwood City. They serve lunch, but the main attraction is what's in the dessert case. The unbelievably gorgeous confections are all as good--if not better--than they look. If you live in town and haven't been yet, you must go. If you're not in town, it's well worth the drive.
As I was asking about the availability of certain cakes, Hannah kindly informed the staff that it was my birthday. And as I was paying for the luscious triple chocolate mousse cake, she volunteered the information that "Mommy is 80 years old today."
EIGHTY.
The woman helping us, thinking that Hannah had said "eighteen," congratulated me on having such a sweet little girl.
I told her that, had she actually said "eighteen," Hannah would have been given another cookie. But since she said "eighty" (though there are days when I feel that old), Hannah was instead grounded. Until I turn 81.
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