It didn't bother me when the 12-year-old Boy Scout going door-to-door called me "Ma'am" in the midst of his efforts to sell me popcorn. He's 12, he's tired, he's trying to be polite, and I understand that, from his perspective, everyone over the age of 25 is 50. Fine.

But last night, I had to do a crisis assessment with a 24-year-old woman with two kids, and SHE called me "Ma'am." I'm FIVE YEARS OLDER THAN HER. Sheesh.

I'm trying to convince myself that it's because I'm seeing her after she had another bad relapse into alcoholism (always a great sign when someone leaves the AA meeting and heads directly to the bar), has two kids under 5, just started a new job and is trying to start college soon, and yet she's in the hospital after an accidental overdose and just generally not feeling one tiny bit together or grown-up, and here I come with my cute little bag and my cute little clipboard and I basically hold the decision about whether she can go home or instead needs to spend the weekend in a psych ward, so she's erring on the side of caution.

Still. Old.