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So first we need to establish that I am not the timing queen. Then we will proceed to the story.

Yesterday, neighbor Jenny invited me to a local glass factory with her family and friend. We all traveled in my van (spacious indeed). The trip was nice, goods were purchased, conversation was had aplenty. We even spotted bikers soliciting for money in the street. All very nice normal outing experiences.

But somehow on the way back, I started to talk about my older son. When he was born, he had a condition called pyloric stenosis that required surgery when he was four weeks old. Part of that particular story involves me telling the listener that I was sixteen when he was born. Now, I am not embarassed or ashamed of that fact, but I mentioned that my younger son was going to have a hard time adjusting to reality when he figured that out. In his mind, the only way a baby gets born is when people are married and old. I said all of this out loud. Then I realized his four year old best friend was still in the back seat.

My prayer last night involved Eleanor and minute amounts of memory loss. Don't worry Jenny, I was very specific, so I don't think she will suddenly lose the ability to chew or anything.

Thanks again for the outing.

Heather

PS ALWAYS be aware of your copilots when storytelling!!!!