A recent conversation I’d like to forget.

“So Mom, when you were younger did you get a car license or a horse license?”

“I don’t understand the question, Izzy.”

“Well, what I mean is, did you get a license to drive a car or for a horse?”

“How old do you think I am?  Seriously, Izzy. “

“Well on Downton Abbey they could either ride a horse or go in a car.”

“And it was 1914.”

Izzy’s seen about two minutes of this fabulous show, and this is what she comes away with.

“Are you crying, Mom?”

“No, but I’m just so perplexed that you think I was living during that time period.  Let’s put it this way: When Papa and Grandma were born, their mom and dad DROVE them home from the hospital IN A CAR.  For heaven’s sake.”

A deathly silence falls over the car.  The air is thick.  And then a whisper from the backseat.

“Mom, are you sure you’re not crying?”

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