Cradle Robber

I got home from the APA last night and Preston said to me, almost as soon as I'd walked in the door, "You're a cradle robber." Since 1) I'm three years younger than Preston, and 2) I'm almost positive I haven't been having an affair with a younger man in my non-existent spare time, I was confused. At first I thought he might be referring to the fact that he had, that day, gotten a haircut that made him look like a thirteen-year old boy scout (love you, Pres!), but he quickly revealed what he had meant.

"I'm twenty years old," he continued proudly. Looking at him with pity and sympathy, I replied, "No, love, you're not. You're twenty-six. Last August." Still proud and excited, he hugged me and said, "No, on Wii Fit I'm twenty. I did the test again today and lowered my age!"

And since, dear internet, I haven't lowered my last Wii Fit verdict of forty-three years old, it appears that I am, in fact, a cradle robber. You learn something new every day.