Somehow, I found the appearance of the three generations an oddity. I wondered about their relationship. Apparently, they were a family. But, she could be a mother of the two or just a mother of the little girl. Anyhow, I dared to ask her, “Is that cute little girl your daughter?”
“Oh, no,” she laughed openly. “I’m too old to be her mother. This is my son, her father.”
“Wow, you look really young.” I couldn’t help but compliment her with great admiration.
“Too young to be a grandmother?” She teased, intriguingly. Her eyebrows rose to play hide-and-seek in her blunt fringe.
