The blog of retired Fannie Mae executive David Worley
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Architect,Writer,Thinker and Dreamer.
The Cricket Pages
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A Little Writing Workshop of Horrors.
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#catastrophe words #more to express more to grow.
do it your way.
The Unspoken Words Worth Writing Down
My Thoughts My Prayers My World
Non Desistas. Non Exieris.
Life in Copenhagen, Denmark, after moving during Covid-19.
Connecting the Dots
Writer
So true! 😀
HUGS!!! 🙂
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When I was a teenager I thought being called a kid was an insult…now it is a compliment.
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When well-seasoned men call me “kid”, I tell them to get their eyes checked! 😉 😛
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I love the ones who say…You young people don’t know how well you have it. Back in my day…
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Yeah.
And sometimes the “good old days” weren’t always good. Ha. 😀
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Agreed.
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ahem….and some adults too! wishing you lots of joy and peace this holiday season Jerry.
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The older I get, the more I can appreciate being called a youngster. Have a very wonderful Christmas Gina and I am looking forward to spending many hours of 2018 absorbed in reading your brilliant words.
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I think I get younger each day Jerry as I learn new things and see life with a different perspective. likewise I enjoy your writing and most of all the thoughts that show me your heart for the truly important things in life. blessed Christmas and a wonderful New Year to you!
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My father calls me and my boyfriend kids.
I’m 27. He is 29.
I love it 🙂
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I am over 60 and a customer just called me ‘kiddo’. Thanks for stopping by. Have a Merry Christmas.
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You’ve just brought up a couple of memories for me. When my boys were still in school, teachers/other parents often mistook me for a student even though I was usually there volunteering. One morning, I was headed into the front of the high school building, and a teacher who was walking across the parking lot yelled, “Hey! You can’t go in those doors!” When I turned around, he realized he knew me and apologized. Another time, I was volunteering in the concession stand at a high school basketball game with three students. During a lull in purchases, the four of us were taking a break, and the mom of one of the girls showed up. She asked, “Where’s your help?” The girl pointed at me, and the mom actually said, “That’s not a parent, that’s just a kid.” I was slightly annoyed, but I’m sure I’d be thrilled if someone mistook me for a kid today.
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That’s too funny.
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