Yesterday, one of my kids asked how old I was.
"I'm 23," I said.
"23! Really?!" she asked, aghast.
She proceeded to march through a barrage of questions designed to determine my status:
"Are you married?"
"Oh, alright then."
I'm not sure if the best friend question follows logically or not, but my answer seemed to finally satisfy her, assuring her that I was not alone in the world.
Usually, I'm pretty sure and satisfied with my being-loved status. But somehow, this boy-crazy 15 year old made me momentarily re-evaluate.
Don't worry, the moment passed quickly, the evaluation favorable.