These last couple of days have reinforced my determination that there is no way I could return to being a parent. I don't care what Norma may have rolled up in an old hanky a la Monica whatnot's blue dress. She will never get my consent to do some magic DNA thing or whatever.
Having two teen-agerish guests is OK until idea becomes reality. We are lucky that we have two very good ones here - we have the benefit that we can detect their Wood genes from their mother and know how to deal with those. It is just the constant pressure to be doing, responding, reacting yadda yadda that is slowly killing us. I was heaving for breath coming up steep sand dunes today and stopped before my eyes went like a fruit machine wheel. I explained that I was getting old and needed to stop more than I used to. Reply was "Yes, I know. Comes to us all one day" Such wisdom eh?
Still, they have to return as the sparrow breaks wind tomorrow morning. We will then sink back into sloth-impersonation mode. We will have plenty of "Yes, I know"-type moments to keep us amused for quite a while. But, for sure, contact with youth has not rubbed off on me and made me feel any younger.