Generational

The poor guy had to have been utterly and completely ready to crawl in a hole. I couldn't help but giggle. Yes, I actually do "giggle". For years, I denied it and called myself a "laugher", but sadly, I must admit to being a giggler.

I digress - the ins and outs of my sounds of amusement were not to be the topic of tonight's blog. Nope, they were not.

Instead, I am talking about the embarrassment faced by my oldest son on three, count 'em, THREE incidents in one day.

I picked him and the wee baby grandchild up to run some errands around town. His fiance was working; it was just the three of us dashing about paying bills, doing a bit of shopping, and having lunch.

At the bank, he was depositing his fiance's paycheck. She assumed it was me. Yes, I laughed. Poor kid, he stammered and said "uh, that's my mom". It was grand fun!

In one of the stores, the clerk said something about what a cute baby we have. Ha ha ha! Again, he felt the need to explain that I was the grandmother, NOT the mom!

I took pity on him at the restaurant when it happened a third time. I told them we were three generations - not two. It truly did make me giggle to watch him turn four shades of red at the mere thought that I was his fiance. I think he was having visions of ugly incestuous situations and it was making him ill.

Frankly, I just thought it was funny.

Peace