"Oh, my God!" I said to my husband in the car today.  "We've known Mr. H for over 20 years."  We had just returned from seeing the latest Bourne movie and I commented that the only movie I could remember seeing with Mr. H. was Good morning, Vietnam starring Robin Williams.  Since my son's now 30, (he was ten years old at the time), that means I've known Mr. H for more than 20 years!  My son was with us at that movie, and though I can't recall any scene in the film, what I do remember is accidentally locking my keys in the car after we had just pulled into the theater parking lot, AND that wasn't the problem.  The main issue at the time was the fact that the motor was still running.  Mr. H immediately went into panic mode, but I insisted the practical thing to do, since my car had a full tank of gas and was in pretty good working condition, was to go inside and see the flick and worry about the car later.  The car wasn't going anywhere.  It was just running, and if anyone had paid the slightest attention to this fact, they probably would have thought someone or some COUPLE were in the backseat doing SOMETHING the average movie-goer might not want to witness.  Who'd want to spoil the anticipation of seeing a Robin Williams movie with the up-close-and-personal view of two teenagers making out? 

Where did the time go?  Why don't I feel as old as I am?  Does the brain have a special mechanism whereby we're made to think we're not aging?  Does Mr. H feel this way too?

My favorite photo of him and my son involves sixteen pounds of collected Halloween candy spread out on a coffee table while two crazed guys hover above it, ready to pounce at any second.  I inspected the goods for pins and poison, all the usual inedible objects du jour that we're warned about on the local news, while simultaneously trying to hold back a 10-year old kid and a 30-something young man.  Mentally patting myself on the back right now, I'm proud to say they were prevented from touching not so much as a single candy bar, not one piece of bubble gum slipped through my hands and into one of their mouths until I had sifted through every bit of that haul.  I'm also happy to report that 20 years ago, I didn't find anything suspicious in my son's Halloween loot.  I wonder if the same thing can be said by the moms of ten-year old kids today?