Old Cushions

“Pull me, grandma.”

With her six year old hands clutching the aqua noodle, I dragged Emily through the water. She squealed. We laughed as drips cascaded down our faces.

When I pulled her close to me, her young hand brushed my back near my arm. “You have a cushion,” she said.

It took me a second to realize what she meant. “What?” I asked.

As her hand pushed in and out on what used to be lean muscle, she grinned. “You have a cushion. I don’t.”

“Just wait until you’re older. I didn’t used to have a cushion either.”

We continued playing in the water. I showed her some exercises with the noodle. “We do this in my water zumba class.”

“Who is we? Are there other old ladies in the class?” she inquired with a laugh.

“Emily!” her mom admonished.

“Did you say other old ladies?” I asked because I had missed the word other.

My sweet granddaughter nodded. 

“Do you think I’m old?” 

With six year old logic, she replied, “No, old ladies have gray hair. Your hair is brown.”

My young granddaughters keep me smiling and laughing with their innocence, exuberance, and antics. They also help me to not take myself too seriously.