It’s after school. We’re getting dressed to head out to collect Talky Talkerson from daycare. I’ve had a fairly long day of training, skiing (woe is me) and chores. I look, to say the least, disheleved. I’m wearing post-workout clothes, a puffy, my hair is… mussed (fancy way of saying swim/helmet head).
Will: “I look weird.”
Me: “No, you don’t. You look just fine. I, however, look ridiculous.”
Will: “No Mum, you just look like an average senior.”
I’m here to tell you there’s no comeback for that.