Rounding Up

The four of us were relaxing in the restaurant at the hotel after a long day on the road.  We'd started out that morning in Whistler, had fresh fish and chips harborside in Horseshoe Bay, boarded a ferry, crossed an icy inlet ringed with craggy, snow-capped mountains, then driven through lush forests and a spectacular pass replete with rivers, roaring waterfalls, and glorious little lakes while big fat snowflakes fell softly all around.  Our new hotel was a haven of warmth and luxury, the waves were crashing against the rocks just outside the windows, there was a fire crackling, and we'd just ordered a delicious meal. I could not think of a better way to spend my birthday than being here, with my family.

My husband:  How's this for a birthday, huh?
My son:  (looking up from his phone) Oh yeah. Happy birthday, Mom.
My daughter:  Wait. How old are you again?

My husband frowns at her warningly.

My daughter: Just kidding! I know you're 50.
Me:  I am NOT!
Her:  Mom, just face it. At this point, you pretty much round up.

At least I'll get to round down soon.