It's official...

Yep, I'm old.

Today, I was ringing up groceries (wine, cheese, foo-foo chocolate) for a lady who had her her 8-year old in tow. The child turns to her mother and says, "Look Ma, it's Gepetto!". Cute, coming from a child. That is, until the mother all-too-readily agreed. I relayed the story to some co-workers and, after the laughter died down, one of them said, "Well, at least the kid knows who Gepetto is." Fine. An assault on my vanity from an intelligent child.

Literacy aside, the incident bothered me more than it should have. I spent the next few minutes desperately rationalizing the child's actions in my mind. "Ok", I thought. "It's the apron, the grey mustache, the damn reading glasses hanging off the tip of my nose. That's it." Sure...

Now, make no mistake. Papi's still got game. That's right. This is something I tell the kids at work, often forcing them to repeat it, just for fun.

Ah hell. Who am I kiddin'? Now I'm gonna have to figure out how to grow old gracefully.

Dammit.