I refuse to tell my children how old I really am. I don't see why they need to know. I don't know why anyone needs to know, frankly. I'm old enough to buy wine, vote, and enter into contracts - that's really all you need to know; beyond that, you're just being nosy. For some reason, this drives my mother crazy and she took it upon herself to tell my kids my real age (which I have since denied and chalked it up to Nana being a little senile.) Lately, I've noticed I've been more forthcoming with my oldest on our drives to and from school and he's somewhat shocked to learn my real feelings about some things and has seen this as an opportunity to inquire about that off-limits subject.
Eldest son: So, you really didn't like Mrs. *Smith when I was in elementary school?
Me: No, I thought she was mean and grumpy. She should have retired 10 years before she taught you.
Eldest: You always said she was a great teacher and how much you liked her!
Me: Well, of course I did! I had to be the example, I'm the grown-up. You still needed to be respectful to her and if I would have let you know I didn't like her, you would have thought you didn't have to be.
Eldest: That makes sense, I guess. What about Mr. *Jones? Remember when he told me there was no Santa Claus?
Me: I wanted to go kick him in the nuts, I was so mad. I mean, who tells someone else's kid something like that? What an ass.
Eldest: Wow, you are always so nice to him. What else don't I know?
Me: I'm not sure, nothing comes to mind.
He sees this as his opening.
Eldest: Are you really **30 years old, like Nana says you are?
Me: No, I don't know why Nana continues to lie to you about that.
Eldest: Mom, I think you really are 30.
He then goes through some simple math. All of a sudden my B average math student has become Sir Isaac Newton, math genius: You're 8 years older than your sister, and she's **22. You graduated in 1999. You got married when you were **13 and you and dad have been married for 17 years....
I tell him that his calculations are wrong, that I'm the same age as his father, and ask him if he put his breakfast dishes in the dishwasher. He tells me yes and we both pretend to believe each other while changing the subject. There are just some things we don't need to know right now. Would it have made any difference had he told me the truth? It wasn't like I was going to turn around so he could actually take care of his dishes. I'll discover the truth in the afternoon when I get home, unless he calls his sister and bribes her to do it for him before we get home, then I'll never be the wiser. Same with my age. He can have his suspicions, but until he really needs to know (like when I'm dead) he can just pretend to believe me. When it matters is when he'll know for certain.
So, does it make a difference that I'm a few years older than I tell my children - and anyone else rude enough to ask? Does it change anything? Exactly!
*Names have changed, for obvious reasons
**Ages have been changed, because it's none of your damn business
Pepper and Pals: Musings from an ordinary woman with a job, husband, teenagers, animals and opinions.
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