really people, i'm still just a child myself.

there's been a disturbing new trend lately where i'm being mistaken as a parent. i suppose this is just a by-product of aging, but its still a little disconcerting.

about a month ago, i needed to make a drop off at the dry cleaners one morning. as i was running late, i opted not to put the clothes in a bag, and just clasped the pile to my chest. when i arrived in the cleaners and put the pile down on the counter, the woman started chuckling and saying something. i suppose i looked confused, so she pointed at my chest and said "baby! baby! haha, toys!" i looked down, wondering what the hell she was talking about, and there stuck to my sweater was a giraffe finger puppet**. i did a little embarrassed chuckle and plucked the giraffe off my shirt, shoving him in my pocket, while the woman continued to exclaim about a baby. so instead of trying to correct her - we have a pretty large language barrier between us when just counting the number of shirts i bring in, let alone trying to explain such a story - i just gave her a weary nod, like, yes, can you believe my kid stuck his toy to my shirt? kids. sigh.

so i left the cleaners thinking it was sort of amusing that this woman thinks i have a child, meanwhile the puppet belongs to two adults.

well, apparently she's been speaking to the National American Miss association, since yesterday i received in the mail a packet addressed to the daughter of chrissy. it was stunning to see. missy put it on the top of the mail stack and we both just sort of stared at it in horror. so i opened it, figuring it must be some sort of mistake on the envelope. but no - the letter inside started off with the line "we are so excited to notify you that your daughter has been chosen..."

why on earth would i receive such paraphernalia? don't these junk-mailing organizations take your info from some sort of national database? and in one, shouldn't i be listed as single? i didn't claim any dependants on my taxes. (i technically should, taking care of missy and bear as i do. although neither one of them are really pageant material.) i've never signed on the line above the word mother on a birth certificate. where did this new reputation come from?


**you may ask how a giraffe finger puppet found its way into my clothing pile. well, it was on the kitchen table, and when i put the pile down on the table, he somehow got tangled in it. why do we have finger puppets on our kitchen table? if you must ask such questions, you mustn't know us very well.