After my YMCA aerobics class this morning, I was talking to a co-exerciser and mentioned I had two granddaughters by my youngest son. "How old are they?" she asked.
"Nine and seven," I replied.
"Great ages," she said. I nodded in agreement.
Another exerciser approached us. "Excuse me. I couldn't help but overhear you. Did you say nine and seven?"
"Yes," I said--expecting her to tell me her grandchildren were the same age.
She flashed a big smile and hugged me. "How wonderful," she exclaimed. "My mother is ninety-three and she also exercises." She walked away.
For a moment, I was puzzled. Then I realized she thought I was ninety-seven! I ran after her to ask if I was right.
"Why yes," she said. "Aren't you? When I explained what I had really said, she was less embarrassed than I wanted her to be. "I thought you looked awfully good for ninety-seven."
I guess that class is more critical than I realized.