the standard question

Today we had another house showing, so the three five of us (yep, we bring the cats out with us every time) went to get lunch.

Making our way through the Chipotle line, the manager sees Carter planted on Matt's hip, points out how awesome he is and asks his age.

Standard question, right? You hear it all the time. Normally we tell them, x-amount of months, and watch their faces as they calculate and compare the age to babies they might personally know. Except this time Matt doesn't answer, Eleven months. He answers, Almost a year.

Wait, what?

Shouldn't we have had a meeting about this answer before you were allowed to use it? Is he really almost a year?

Yes, he is. I'm freaked out. His age will be a celebration, but it's confusing to also feel so sad and panicky knowing I'll never see my grunty, squeaky, wiggly infant again.