"I think this place is too hip for us."
That's what my husband said when we left Pink Swirl this evening. True, the glittery tables, hot pink walls and posh white (faux) leather furnishings were definitely not how we'll be decorating our living room anytime soon, but sometimes, just sometimes, I like to imagine I'm still young and cool (well, okay, let's not pretend I was ever cool) enough to hang out where the "hip" kids are.
Then I realize we're the only ones silently cursing the lack of high chairs and realize maybe he's right.
It's also been an interesting feeling lately when I find myself watching my annoyingly cute Disney shows (my "guilty pleasure") and relating more to the parents than the kids. 'Tis a sad day, indeed.
When did I get so old? I'm willing to bet it was the day I gave birth to my first child. Or I suppose I could date it further, to the morning that second pink line showed up on the little white stick.
Either way, I'm here. I suppose I might as well embrace it. Next stop: mini-vans and mommy-jeans. (And my teenage self finds it sad that the above actually sounds really nice).