My daughter dyed her hair gray today.
She says I should call her ‘Grandma.’
She says, “I am older than the trees, the sun, even older than Pluto.”
She says the college boy was only experimenting, that this is what millennials do now.
She says, “I miss how you’d tell me stories at bedtime. I believed they were true.”
I say, “But why the gray hair?”
She says, “You should listen better.”
She says, “Here—lean in, let me bite your earlobes; see if you don’t feel it.”
I relent, do as I’m told: too old or dumb to ask questions.