You know you're getting old when...

After three atrocious meetings and a full day's worth of work, sometimes a man just wants to sit on the couch, eat some popcorn, watch a movie and get a foot massage. But not me. No, I'd rather drive 50 miles to a mall and go shopping with my wife and two toddlers.

There was sale. An annual sale we go to every year. It seems the overflowing closet of my two sons could handle a few more items bearing the brand name, The Children's Place. I mean, who could miss out on such a sale of 50% Off? Not my wife. Of course, she may not realize the $50 in clothes she bought (originally $100) probably isn't that great of deal since we had to spend $30 in gas getting there.

But that is not the point. Nor is it the point of my story. So there I am, watching her hold a very rambunctious child, peering through racks of clothes looking frustrated trying to keep up with a 2-year old while I had the 1-year old. I played Superman and gave a woman their dream wish. To have the husband and kids wait on a bench in the middle of the mall surrounded by kiosks full of cheap gold jewelry and candy and sit. And wait. I just wanted her to be happy.

I stopped by Mr. Bulky (the huge candy shop) and picked up some candy and bribed the kiddos to stay quiet while mommy shopped. Normally the bench is just fine. But what my wondering eyes did see was a whole row of empty massage chairs! So there I was, a toddler on each knee, covered in chocolate-covered raisins and sour gummie worms, feeding my George Washington into the machine getting a back massage by a robotic chair.

Now I know I'm getting old.