Weighing the Years

A few mornings back, Caed grabbed my hand, walked me to the bathroom scale and said, "C'mon Mom! Let's see how old I am!"

He stepped on the scale, which quickly returned his weight age.
"Wow, I'm four and zero (40). That's like a hundred thirty nine sixty thousand!"

All I can say is, I can't believe I've lived this long!

Some days age weighs me down. Gravity has all the chips at the poker table, and my tired old knees can't even ante up enough to go for a run. Other days I wake up immensely grateful not to be in high school. I am much more comfortable in my 30-something freckles than I was at twelve and twenty.

If life was remote controllable and I could push rewind or play, I'd choose forward motion every time, even if it meant a slower pace, veins that pop out, and a mountain range of wrinkles on my knuckles.

Actually, now that I think about it, if I really did live on DVD, I might like to use that pause button every now and then. Not so much for me and my laugh lines, but so I could just sit and watch and soak in the story line of my two favorite (youthful!) characters.
So what button(s) would you push if the remote control for your life presented itself?