An unexpected (and unforgettable) end of story. A couple of weekends ago, I went to visit my Mom. My sister arrived unexpectedly a short time later with her grandson, who is eight years old. Figuring the last thing the little guy wanted to do on a summer afternoon was to sit indoors with three older women, I said, “Let’s walk to the convenience store at the gas station; it’s only three blocks away, I’ll buy you a candy bar.” My niece's son... He gave me hope for the future. We trundled off talking about candy, and as we passed the elementary school a block away, he asked, “How old are you?” Hum, I thought to myself, I wonder why he wants to know my age? “I’m sixty-seven, almost sixty-eight,” I replied. “Oh, then you’re older than my dad. He’s fifty-one,” he remarked. Then he asked, “Do you have any children?” At this point, I realized I had never spoken to my niece, his mother, about how much and how soon he should be informed about my ‘real’ position in the family ...
