If I Was Six Years Younger . . .

Funny the conversations you have with your children.

Izzy and I put up more jelly the other day.

Plum, my favorite.

I'm standing in the kitchen and she says,

Mama, with your Chacos on and your Ocoee Ministries shirt on and your skirt on you look just like Aunt Penny standing at the stove.  Are you sure y'all aren't twins?

Baby, you forget the six years older than her I am.

Are you sure?  Maybe Grandma tricked you or something.

I'm sure, but I wouldn't mind being thirty-nine again instead of forty-five.

Then we talked about what things might be different now if I was six years younger.

Her age, what she might be doing, what her sisters would be doing. 

 How much better I would look.

Honey, time marches on and eventually you realize it is marching across your face. - Name that movie.

Izzy ended our conversation with this -

We wouldn't have Max - we'd just be looking forward to him.

I'm honestly not sure if there was sarcasm in that comment or not, 

but I kinda think so.

Does my girl look tired to you?  Maybe I'm working her too hard??

Nah.