Further signs that I'm old

Forget the silver that keeps appearing in my hair, or the fact that certain parts of my body seem to have permanently migrated to a new southern home, or the increasing amount of time it takes me to find the keys in the morning, or the fact that I can no longer claim to be in my "early 30s."

Here's how I know I'm really creeping close to middle-aged: See this woman?

She just turned 40.

It was only a matter of time

I realized we'd hit another milestone this evening when, from the kitchen, I heard the wife chastising The Boy in his room. He had taken a permanent marker and written his name on his door. And the floor. And on a couple of bookcases and his bed. He wrote his sister's name on the lower bunk, which I thought was quite sweet, actually. And while I wanted to be mad, I couldn't help but notice that his penmanship has improved quite a bit. Maybe paper just isn't his medium.

At 4-nearly-5-years-old, the boy seems to vacillate from heart-aching sweetness to mind-addling frustration with the frequency of a molecule dancing in the heat of a Bunsen burner. Does that even make sense? Anyone here remember anything from seventh-grade science class?

Anyhoo, The girl has entered her own brave new world this week; she is definitely walking now, choosing to get around on her own two feet way rather than employ the butt-scoot she had been using to propel herself from room to room. Or, I should say, from hazard to hazard. It's clear to me now how things are going to be for the next few years, and I wonder how much time we have to say "no" to our kids before the word has lost all meaning.