Before getting foot surgery, my wife purchased a cane. The idea was that it would help her get around once her foot had healed enough for her to be off crutches. Unfortunately, the healing process took much longer than we’d expected, and the cane sat unused in the kitchen.

One afternoon, as we sat at the table, our youngest picked up the cane and started walking with it. He hunched his back over and made a monkey face. “Look,” he said. “I’m an old lady! An old lady!”

Everyone burst out laughing. So, of course, he continued his routine.

“Okay,” my wife said after his third pass. “That’s enough.”

“You mean you don’t like being called an old lady?” I asked.

She glared me into silence.

Her foot is much better now. She hobbles around, only occasionally having to grab for tables or walls to help support her. She has yet to pick up that cane, however, and I’ve a sneaking suspicion she never will.