(a letter to my daughters)
When I get old....
1. Smell me before I walk out the door. I don't want to be responsible for anyone being overcome by ancient perfume fumes.
2. I want a chia head. Yep. I can cut the hair, braid it, part it in the middle...rub it's head....
3. I want the clapper. I live to grow old just so I can clap on and clap off.
4. Don't withhold any information from me. I want to know when I'm expected to kick the bucket so I can go out and raise some hell before I go.
5. Don't expect me to eat my foods soft. If I can't chew, then I would much prefer a fried chicken IV with Ben and Jerry's ice cream IV for dessert.
6. If by chance I end up needing a walker, please make sure it has turbo boost on it so it can fly me wherever I want to go.
7. If I look like crap, don't tell me that I look good and then behind my back talk about how I have one foot in death's door.
8. If I end up with alzheimer's, don't feel bad if you have to tell me that you've heard the same story over and over again. Just give me "the look" and I'll shut up and move on to the next subject.
9. Don't suggest that I join the Red Hat club. I don't do hats and definitely not red ones.
10. Don't make excuses for me when I go to Hometown Buffet and pull out my tupperware. After all, senior citizens are on a limited budget.
11. No. I'm not ready for the talk. You know the one that says, "where do you want your plot to be and how big"? Surprise me! Better yet, just have me stuffed and park me in your living room so I will always been in your thoughts.
Mommy who doesn't want to grow old for a looooong time