Wendell and I took Emma to the temple to do baptisms again. It was, as the temple always is, a good experience: sweet and peaceful. As Emma and I combed out our hair after our baptisms we chatted with another temple goer. She had brought family names to the temple as had I. But it was our first time with our own names and it was amazing.
I gestured toward Emma as I had been explaining about the names and said,"And this is my 12-year-old daughter, Emma."
The woman looked startled and said things like, "No way. You're too young. You can't be her mother!" All of which I appreciated. I said things like, "You're too kind," in return.
"Yes," I went on, "my husband and I have 5 children and she's the oldest." Emma then proceeded to list her siblings.
The woman joked, "Gosh, what did you do? Start when you were 15?"
"Yeah," I joked back, "I started when I was 15."
She almost got whiplash as quickly as she turned to look at me. "You did?!?" she exclaimed.
I chuckled until I realized she was serious. "No," I said totally blowing my cover, "I was almost 23 when I had her."
Although it was fun to be mistaken as Emma's sister, friend or roommate, it was not as fun to have someone make the next leap in which she thought I had been a teen mother.
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