Is That Grandma?

So this morning I joined the legions of folks at Kroger, but I was just there to get a prescription from the pharmacy, not bread and milk. We can get by with what we have in the freezer but I do need my blood pressure meds.

The reason for the impromptu trip was weather. We are expecting a major snow event. The last big 'un, which was in 1993, left us without electricity and stuck in the house for about a week.

The next 24 hours are supposed to bring us a foot or more of snow.

Anyway, I hit the tail-end of a rather long line and was quickly joined by a mother with a small girl. The child was aged 3, or so she promptly informed everyone within hearing distance.

I smiled at her and made a little small talk with the mom, then turned around to face the front of the line. "Mama, is that Grandma?" the little girl said, giving a hesitant tug on my coat as she asked.

Yikes.

I turned around, hoping I wasn't glaring but I might have been. I had never been mistaken for a GRANDMA before. "No, that's not Grandma, but she does wear her hair a lot like that so I can see how you might have made that mistake," the mother, who was maybe 30, said.

Okay, so maybe the soft white in my hair does glisten a lot like tinsel these days, and yes, maybe I am really old enough to actually be somebody's grandmother, had we had children. Maybe I dress rather conservative and neatly. But I have pretty good skin for my age, with only a wrinkle here and there. I get out and do things.

I am not a grandma.

You can't be hip and be a grandma. I am hip, aren't I?

Aren't I?

Anyone?