IHOP Memories of '96

In my post below I referred to the frequent comments and questions I receive about my age and youthful looks. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. When I was seventeen, about to graduate from high school and head for college, I went to IHOP one evening with my Mom and Dad. We were placed in a booth and a few minutes later the waitress appeared next to me holding a balloon and circus pass for kids twelve and under. I sat there not really understanding the situation. My Dad immediately jumped in, thanked her for her thoughtfulness, then gently mentioned that I was seventeen and a senior in high school. She turned red, apologized, then quickly disappeared for a bit. I remember my Dad laughing, then looked me straight in the eye and said, "Don't worry. One day you will be grateful for it."
In addition to general comments about my age (which really only happens due to the five "little ducklings" behind me) I've had some pretty funny experiences as well. The following two happened at church. With our frequent moves, we are of course new (and unknown) to each congregation of that area. I was recently asked to give the opening prayer in Sacrament. When the meeting ended I was immediately approached by a Mom. I hadn't yet had the opportunity to meet her, but I did know her cute daughter since I'd substituted their Sunday school class on a few occasions. The Mom began to laugh and recounted her story. I had walked up to give the opening prayer and she glanced toward the pulpit at me, then leaned over to her daughter and said, "How nice. In all my years I have never seen them ask one of the Young Women to offer the opening prayer in Sacrament! They must be starting this new." Her daughter (who knew me) began to laugh and said, "Mom, that's not a youth! That's my teacher!" A few years back in Memphis, a Mother and her teenaged daughter approached me in giggles. The Mom said she had been pointing me out to her daughter for weeks now. Each Sunday, she would see me gathering children, packing up the quiet bag, and corralling numerous youngsters out of the chapel. Each week she had pointed me out to her daughter and said, "Look at her, look at that nice young women. She helps her Mom out every single Sunday! That's a lot of little siblings too! What an example of a great youth" Finally, the young girl began to notice that while there was a very helpful "youth" assisting the family, there was never an actual Mom around. Where was she? They decided to ask the bishop, who nicely explained that I (the exemplary young women) was indeed the Mom.
While my many experiences have been mostly comical, they have also frequently made me think back on my Dad's comment. To be very honest, it truly doesn't matter to me. In my mind, I'm not young or old looking, I'm just Lynette. The real reason that I truly love this memory is for the way it immediately transports me back to that cold evening in 1996. Each time I receive a "youthful" comment, I'm suddenly sitting in that booth and listening to my Dad's laughter and parental advice, and with ten years since his passing, that's a pretty special gift to be left with.