It's the little things that make me go "Bwahaha!"

Back in September, I went to my kidlets' Back-to-School nights. The few times I had seen Horse's teacher off in the distance somewhere, I presumed he had to be older than I am. After all, I still look like I am eighteen, right? It was to my great chagrin that seeing him up close on that evening at school proved he was indeed closer to my age than I thought. In fact, I went home a bit depressed after realizing that her seemingly older teacher was probably younger than I was.

Under normal circumstances, I do not care how old people are. The poor guy cannot help when he was conceived any more than I can. Still, there was a tiny, immature part of my psyche that felt unhinged because one of the three kidlets' teachers was younger than I am. Last year, both girls' teachers had been younger or around my age, so I am not even sure where this age thing became an issue. I suspect it has to do with my sudden dread about middle age being right around the corner. Perhaps it is also because I keep forgetting how old I really am since I have claimed to be 148 years old since I was the ripe old age of twenty-two. Whatever the case may be, I was not amused about Mr. Young'un.

Today, Horse came home from school and insisted she needed to make a birthday card for her teacher. His birthday is apparently tomorrow. She asked if I could write a quick "Happy Birthday" message to him on a progress report I have to sign every evening. I agreed, figuring it was the least I could do after hating his youthfulness for weeks now. I asked Horse if he told the class how old he was turning, and she replied that he is turning thirty-six.

Hold the phone. If I was born in the year of the dragon, which is not until next year, that means I will not turn thirty-six until next year, since those years go in multiples of twelves. (Sadly, yes, this is how I calculated my current age. My normal 148 is much easier to remember even if it is not nearly as accurate.) This makes me younger than Mr. Young'un by exactly four months! Bwahaha!

Okay, so perhaps my silly gloating over four months is merely a sign of immaturity. I'm willing to accept that. I will do my best to wipe the smirk off my face by the time we get assigned our parent-teacher conference meeting times. Parading my immaturity around my own house is very different from doing so in front of my child's teacher. I just hope my kidlet doesn't rat me out to Mr. Young'un.

Update: Horse came home from school today and told me Mr. Young'un actually turned thirty-four today. I am back to sulking. :P