So it finally happened. Mark it down. 53 years, 6 months, 11 days.
"Do you want to carry any of your candy?" asked the cashier as she rang up the M&M's, Skittles and Hershey Bars.
"No, it's all for the Easter Bunny."
The mac and cheese and spaghetti and fruit roll-ups came next. Then the 12-pack of Corona.
"Is this for the Easter Bunny, too?" she asked with a smile.
"Yep. And the Easter Bunny might get into it before Sunday."
I laughed. She laughed.
And then ...
"So," she said ...
Wait for it ...
"How many grandkids do you have?"
Happens to Michael all the time. He was 50 when H was born, and even at the hospital they asked if he was visiting his grandchild.
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