Hit or Mrs.

My adorable 13 year old babysitter came over this afternoon to watch my kids while I went for my bi-weekly power walk. I'm really hoping to turn this into a bi-weekly run, but so far my knees have been uncooperative and so I have stuck to walking.

Anyway, this sweet little twig of a girl called me Mrs. I stared at her like she had suddenly grown a second head and said "wait, WHAT did you just call me?" *blink* .

"well.. umm... my dad insists on it."

"Okay. When I'm at your house, you can totally call me that. When you are here, though... Please, PLEASE call me Mel."

I can't decide if I broke some cardinal rule about undermining someone else's parenting, but FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I can't bear to be called "Mrs" in my own house.

The whole episode was almost as upsetting as when the 20-year-old cable installer called me "ma'am". I will NEVER be old enough to be a "Ma'am". I didn't have the nerve to tell him so, though. I just died a little, on the inside.