Last night I picked JD up from school and took him out for dinner. And by dinner, I mean we went to a pizza place and ate slices and salad. Because JD was running back-and-forth in front of the counter at warp speed, the pizza man told me to "eat, enjoy--pay later." I took his advice and grabbed JD's hand, pulling him into a booth. He made a huge mess. Pizza oil on his hands, his face, his shirt--my dress. He chewed lettuce, told me it wasn't crunchy enough and spit it out. When it was time to pay...
JD resumed running back-and-forth and almost crashed into a middle-aged man who was either amused or pissed, I really couldn't tell at the time.
"Come to mommy! Stop running!" I said as I handed over my debit card to pay.
The guy JD almost ran into, said, "Mommy. You have to be kidding. I assumed he was your brother."
"Um, no," I said. "Come here. Don't move." JD completely ignored me and was now banging his palms on a gumball machine.
"But you're so young," the guy said.
I just smiled.
"How do you manage," he said.
"Huh?" I said looking at him, JD was now wrapping his pizza hands around my black tights.
"I just can't believe, you have a kid. You're a kid!" he said with a chuckle. He was not flirting. He was serious.
Now I just assumed this person was crazy. I did not answer him.
I turned back to pizza man somewhat annoyed, but mostly amused.
"I'm 30," I said to pizza man.
"You-wa, look-a, 18," the pizza man said and winked. He was flirting. Ew.
I don't look 18. Maybe I look 25.
Do people mistake you for a kid when you're out with your kid? How old are you? How old were you when you had your first kiddo? How old do you think you look? Have a good weekend! XO