When I was a kid, I didn’t understand why the old people I knew would always ask me “What grade are you in?” or “How old are you now?” like they couldn’t remember such basic information from the last time they’d seen me. It was something I kept abreast of. I never asked them how old they were, either.
Then somebody would comment that “kids grow like weeds,” which I never considered a compliment because who wants to be compared to Johnson grass or thistles? I figured that I’d still be answering that question even when I was married with two kids–what grade was I in now? That did happen for a while, but lately I’ve found myself thinking, “Now how old is old so-and-so’s kid?” and getting ready to make an analogy to hardy local plants.