I got to the high school play, "A Curious Savage," an hour early because my high-schooler son was in the light booth and needed time to set up. While waiting in the lobby, I got busy writing. So when there were signs of activity around the ticket booth, I gave my 10-year-old some money and told him to go get us tickets so we could go in.
When the auditorium doors opened, Michael came to get me and I picked up my papers and followed him toward the seats he'd picked out. As we were going through the doors, the director saw me, gave a mischievous grin, and called loud enough for Egyptians to hear, "Hey, you should tell your son that you just want a child and an adult ticket."
"Why?" I asked, wondering if Michael had gotten two child's seats or something.
"He said your age," the director snorted, trying to hold back the laughter.
"Oh, that's okay, I don't really care," I said with a smile.
Michael took a few steps beside me in silence, then he turned his face up and said, "But, Mom, I had to tell him your age because I didn't know if you got the Senior Citizen discount yet or not."
I cared about that. I laughed clear 'til curtain time!
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