I was talking to Molly today about school and various things. Somehow it came out in conversation that one of the boys in the class reckons I'm poor. I have no idea where this comes from, and frankly I don't care. Molly says he a silly little boy who often says nasty things.
(But maybe I should start wearing the smart stuff to pick her up in and take the Jag?)
Then she says that her friends all think I look like I'm 26. I have no idea whether this is true or not and I know children are awful judges of age. But I really don't care. 26 is a lovely compliment.
26 and poor. I can live with that.