Today I took P to the doctor, although he was booked so we actually saw the nurse practitioner, whom we rarely see (maybe only once before) so I'll give her a little lee way for not being familiar with my family, who asked as she walked into the room, "Are you the child's grandmother (slight pause as she took in the horror in my expression) or mother?"
Now I do live in the Deep South and I will admit that my appearance was more pre-Stacy-and-Clinton-makeover than post, but I am only 34! (Ack, maybe I really to be on "Ten Years Younger!")
Now had I had my first child when I was 16 (rather than 23), and that child had chosen to procreate at the same age, it is possible that I could be a grandmother to a 2 year old (but P is 3 and my youngest).
Either way I am mortified.