The Importance of Age

Today I was down in Bellingham all day, experiencing the joys of "city" life and in particular of shopping at Trader Joe's.  As witnessed by these two conversations.

1.  A small child, a girl dressed all in pink, looks up at me out of the cart in which she is sitting and says,
"How old are you?"
 "Uh, I beg your pardon?" (I replied, not sure what she was asking me.)
"How old are you?"
"Oh, well, I'm 77."
"I'm three."
"Ah, I was three at one time, and you'll be 77 later on."
"Well, I'm three now."

2.  And then a little later, while checking out, I ask for a case of merlot wine.  The checker, a woman of about thirty and working at Trader Joe's peak speed, says:

"How old are you?"
"Well, I'm closer to 81 than to 21."
The checker focuses on me.  "Oh, right.  We have to ask everyone."  (Although nobody at TJoe's has ever asked me before.)
I pay my bill and start to move off with my cart, including the case of merlot, to the parking lot.
Another employee comes up to me and says,
"Do you need any help getting that case of wine to your car?  Can I carry it for you?"

Not old enough to buy wine and too old to carry it.  But I was once three.  Although I don't remember it all.