When we were at a gas station and Mom went in to pay. She came back with a big smile on her face.

"Oh, my gosh. You need to go in the store," she said.

"What?" I asked, confused.

She fished through her purse and handed me some money. "Here's five dollars, buy a pack of gum or something. I don't care. You need to check out the cashier."

Looking at my sweatshirt and sweatpants, I reluctantly said, "okay."

I understood why she wanted me to go in, the cashier was extremely good looking.

The next day she said, "So I spoke to that cashier."

I looked at her with wide eyes. "The hot one at the gas station?"

"Yeah, I asked him how old he was," she said as though it was simply casual conversation.

"Mom, you can't do that!" I exclaimed.

"Why not? I'm a mom, it's not weird," she said with a shrug. "He said he was 18 and that he went to the high school across town."

"Oh, you found out what high school he went to, too." I lifted my arms and sighed. "You get his Social Security Number while you're at it?"

"No, but I asked if he was single."