Last week one of my preschoolers wanted to know how old I was. I told him I was old. I was sooooo old that I couldn't remember how old I was. Well, that didn't fly. He looked at me with a great deal of skepticism and said, "Nuh uh!" I relented and told him I was fifty-two.
About this time another child, who was avidly listening to this conversation contributes this little nugget--"Teacher, you aren't old!" Then she moved on to the really important stuff..."I'm five!" she reported, showing me five fingers, in case I didn't get it.
This little conversation started me thinking. What if we all were to consider our age a matter of great pride? We have managed to live to be five, fifteen, thirty-five, fifty! What if instead of bemoaning our age--which we can't do anything about anyway--we were to celebrate it? What if we used our birthday as a time to look back over the year and see all the things we accomplished?
Guess what? I'm fifty-two!!!!! I'm still married twenty-nine years later to my first husband...I bought a new camera and am learning to use it. I learned how to blog!!! I paid off another debt! I tried vegan cooking! It doesn't matter what we decide to do, we just need to continue learning new things, or maybe just being excited about the old things we know. Or how about doing new things with our old knowledge. I learned how to crochet dishclothes! I started a new exercise routine--Zumba! Whatever...just pick something.