Erica Lucke Dean

"Making the world a better place, one book at a time."

I smell a conspiracy

The whole thing started last night.

My children came to me, one at a time…quite stealthily (at least they thought so)…in order to ascertain my age. Now, the fact that they didn’t already know my age was strange in and of itself, but that little tidbit aside, that they were asking was odd at best.

The first one to inquire was my son.

“Who wants to know?” was my automatic response. I immediately questioned if it was his father (my ex-husband) digging around for information. But of course, of all people, he would already know…wouldn’t he?

My son didn’t think it was important I discover who was suddenly interested in my age…more than a week after my last birthday, I might add. Finally, after much questioning on my part, he conceded it was his girlfriend asking. Although, I couldn’t imagine why she would care, it didn’t seem dangerous to give her the information, so I complied.

Fast forward to today…less than twenty-four hours after my son’s suspicious inquiry, I get another text from one of the girls asking the very same question. Suddenly my spider sense was tingling. This was no mere coincidence. Was it?

So once again I asked, “Who wants to know?” and I tossed in, “And why do they want to know?”

The answer was just as benign as the one last night…

“No reason…just curious.”

So, of course, I smelled a conspiracy. It became my mission to wheedle the information out of the girls (they were apparently in this together) with a few well-placed questions designed to fool them into revealing their motives.

Apparently, my sleuthing skills have rubbed off, because the girls were able to figure out my age without my help after searching my Facebook page for clues based on my high school graduation and other such resources.  Then they informed me they were discussing cradle robbers and needed to know the exact spread in years between my husband and myself to ascertain if I was, in fact, a cradle robber. 

Without giving up my actual age (which I’m really not inclined to do) I will cop to the fact my current husband (Mr. Living off the Land) is several years my junior.

Several.

So according to the girls I am both a cougar, and a cradle robber. Apparently, before my husband was even out of grammar school, I was old enough to drink. (Never mind the drinking age was still 18 at the time!) For some reason, as of yet unbeknownst to me, the girls find this information fascinating.

I’m still not convinced the three of them aren’t in this together…all of the newly minted adult children…somehow working in tandem toward an unknown goal. I can’t imagine what that goal might be, but I will find out. Eventually. I always do. They may have honed their sleuthing skills recently, but mine are well tested after many, many years of practice.

As far as how many…you’ll just have to guess. I’ve shared my age quite enough this week.

Until the next time…I’ll be doing some digging of my own.

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