Wrinkles

There are two types of people out there; those, like myself, that iron and those, like my wife, that look like frat boys the morning after a long road trip to Vegas. But, if you're in the latter, you don't even notice wrinkles unless they're large and sharp enough to cut yourself on. That said, last night, Daya and I were teasing each other about her wrinkles. She insisted she never goes to work wrinkled, more inquisitively than insistently. Then asked, "am I wrinkled now?", as Mina, our 11 years old walks in. "I looked down at her wrinkles on wrinkled shirt, lingered a moment ar two at the plunging neck line and replied, "You are soooo wrinkled!", and made my way back to the plunging neck line. Mina piped in, defending her mom, "Well she is 41 Dad!" Slightly confused I asked,"You have to wear wrinkled shirts when you're 40?". "Oh her shirt!", Mina, embarrassed, nervously giggled and put a few feet between herself and mom. Dhara, aged 8, got up to count wrinkles on mom's face as I asked who was more wrinkled. Daya snapped her fingers near hert eyes to draw my attention back upwards and asked me if I thought that was funny as Dhara offered mom, "At least you make beautiful children!"

You can't make this stuff up.