Shades of Grey

No, not that "grey". Grey as in getting older and it's showing up in my once lustrous jet black hair. Ha! I don't think I ever had lustrous locks, nor jet black. But, alas, my four decades on this planet is now evident by the silvery white strands I find. Or perhaps it's due to the four kids.
At any rate, I was bemoaning the fact that my hair was turning white and trying to pluck out the strands I could reach. Yes, I've heard all about that old wives' tale about fifty more growing in. But still, vanity and the chase for everlasting youth had me in front of the mirror searching for those pesky strands.
My children had varied responses to their mother's aging.
Aisling was quite upset. She sat on a stool in the bathroom, and with a very serious look on her face, as evidenced by the knitted brows, she asked in a worried tone, "You're getting grey hair? How are we going to get you back to normal, Mommy? We need to get you back to normal so you can be our mommy."
When questioned as to what "normal" entailed, she responded, "You know, young!"
She then came up with her own scenario for what would occur if her mommy didn't return to her previously "normal" state.
"I know what we'll do if you can't get back to normal. We'll have to give you away and get a new younger mommy who doesn't have grey hair."
Trying not to laugh, her father asked what about him. Same solution. Bring in younger models with more vitality. Too funny since Daddy has had some grey hair for all of Aisling's short life.
I preferred my other kids' suggestions for my greying self.
Ceilidh, quite flippantly, stated "I guess you should start dying your hair."
Devlin came up and hugged me. "Don't worry Mommy," he said. "I'll still love you even if you're old and grey, but maybe you should dye your hair like Halmuhnee!"