I'm wandering the aisles of Target with Zoe and Zack in tow, lingering in the airconditioning because our house is so hot.
We walk through shoes, toys and belts and end up where we never go -- the baby section.
The kids ooh and ah over the tiniest shoes, the softest blankets, the sweetest pictures on the packages.
Zoe pulls my hand so I bend down a little so she has my full attention.
"Look YOUNG," she commands, "so that people will think YOU can have babies..."
I straighten up and laugh at her, then lead them out of the baby section -- from which I've happily graduated summa cum laude -- to the chocolate aisle, to the wine aisle and back to the unairconditioned house, happy to be old and wise and hot.