The church where I work also has a private school onsite. My good friend Corri, who dyed my hair red, works as a teacher’s assistant there and asked me to swing by the lunchroom during lunch so she could check out how my hair turned out after washing it last night.
As she was checking out my tresses, one of the girls called out to her.
“Ms. Corri, is that your mom?”
“What?” we both shouted. My mouth fell agape. Corri quickly followed up with, “Does she really LOOK like my mom?”
The girl nodded.
“HOW OLD DO YOU THINK I AM?” I was shocked.
“I don’t know, like 24?”
“Okay,” I laughed, “so If I’m 24, how old is Ms. Corri? Like 12?”
“Well. Okay. Sure then. I’m her mom.”