"Check out that sky," Hollywood said to his teammates, earlier this week, when Vegas bestowed another beautiful sunset upon us.
14 teenage boys turned to look at him with blank faces.
"Yep," he said. "I'm turning into my mom."
Then last night he fell into the couch with an old person's groan: "Now, I'm turning into Dad."
When The Storm did something to remind me of my younger self, I pulled in tight on her face and dropped my finger to her nose. "Mini me," I said.
Not missing a beat, she lifted her finger to mine: "Big me."
A friend coming to town was in touch, last night, to remind me that we were together when we went on our first dates. It was a Friday night, just a few weeks into the school year, when we met our dates, two school boys, in front of the movie theatre where our parents had dropped us off. Inside, we proceeded to make out with our young studs, amongst a theatre packed with families while ET begged to phone home on the big screen.
I laughed to recall the spectacle.
Then Sunshine arrived home from her Friday night movie date and suddenly it wasn't so funny anymore.