Thirty

What a day it is, Friends!

Hoo, boy, Friends!  Has the Time Change knocked you on your hiney-butt?  It's kind of knocked me on my hiney-butt!  Tell me again why we do this twice a year.  Especially this "springin' forward" business.  It's like jetlag without gettin' to go anywhere!

But that's not what I wanna talk about today, Friends.  It isn't.  What I wanna talk about today is that I'm Thirty Months Old today.

Thirty's one of those numbers, isn't it, Friends?  It's one of those numbers that makes ya realize that you've reached some milestone.

Lotsa important things come in increments of thirty, when you really think about it.  Situational comedies usually come in thirty-minute doses.  My favorite Daniel Tiger program is thirty-minutes long. 

Thirty is a big number.  If ya work somewhere for thirty years, you usually get a gold watch.  My favorite hockey goaltender usedta wear the number 30.

People tend to lose their minds a little bit for a little while when they turn thirty years old.  They start actin' weird for a little while, until they get a grip on themselves again.

I'm thirty months old!

Well, I can sorta understand today.  I'm thirty months old.  Two and a half years.  I thought my world was rocked, once I made it to the double-digit months.  But Thirty Months Old, well...

Wouldja believe some guy the other night had the NERVE to say he thought I was a FOUR YEAR OLD?!  He said I looked like a FOUR YEAR OLD to him.  Asked me if I was gonna be in KINDERGARTEN next year!  Not that there's anything wrong with bein' four.  I mean, I'll be four someday, but not today, Pal!  Jeez!

I'd like to think that he mistook me for an older kid because of my unmistakable air of sophistication.  Maybe it was my command of Big People English that stymied him. 

Maybe I just seem like an old soul. 

Friends, I'm not gonna let it get to me.  Mommy says there's nothin' wrong with ownin' how old you are.  She says in other cultures and in other languages, they don't ask each other how old they are.  They ask each other how many years they have, if they even ask at all. 

"How many years do you have?"  It makes years sound like wonderful little charms on a pretty charm bracelet.  You get a new one for every year you're around.  And in a way, isn't that the way it is? 

I don't looka day over twenty-five months?! You're so sweet!

That's how I'm choosin' to look at havin' thirty months to my name now.  I have thirty little charms on a metaphorical charm bracelet, and they all glitter and twinkle and make me smile when I look back on 'em, Friends. 

I think probably a good policy to adopt, though, moving forward, is not to ask another person how old they are, or even how many years or months they have, in most cases.  People are funny about things like that.  I think it's probably just best to enjoy bein' in their company and not worry about how old they are.  Does it matter all that much most of the time?  I don't think it does.

You know what DOES matter, Friends?  I love the heck right out of ya and I'll be seein' you tomorrow.  We'll all still be all jet-laggy, probably, from the timechange, but I'll be seein' ya!  Muah!