Dave and I are aging gracefully. At least that's what we keep telling ourselves. The lines on our faces we've come by honestly. Mostly got 'em from each other and our children, of course. They're a perfect reflection of the mixture of laughing/smiling/glaring that we find ourselves doing on a daily basis. Dave still has pretty much all of his hair, albeit gray, and my blond is hanging strong, though don't look too closely, my split ends will poke you in the eye. But, the other night when we were searching for the mystery smell in the fridge (yes, you're right, the Parsons house is always dealing with stinky smells of some kind or another), we got some serious perspective.
Dave: "Maybe those mushrooms that went bad last week oozed some stinky goo in the drawer."
Me: "Maybe it's something in the freezer."
Little guy: "You two are probably smelling oldness on your upper lips."