The Truth

Today, since I arrived home from work, Muddear has asked me on numerous occasions... "Where is my baby?" I tried to rationalize with her, but of course it didn't work. I would ask, "Muddear, how old are you?"

"That doesn't matter. Where is my baby?"

"But, it does matter. You are 97 years old, there is no way that you have babies. They are all grown."

"No they are not. Where are my babies?"

A little later, I tried again to rationalize with Muddear as she asked...

"Did somebody take my babies?"

"Of course not Muddear, your babies are adults now."

"No they are not."

"Muddear, tell me something, when did you start having babies?"

"Oh when I was about 79."

"Now Muddear, you know you didn't have babies at 79. That's too old - not just for you, but no one has babies at 79."

It is almost 10:00 p.m. and this issue is still not resolved. She keeps asking us... "Where is my baby?" Should we play along with her? I fear that this would create even more problems.

What do you think?