One of my normally very extroverted colleagues came into work on Monday with a face longer than Bohemian Rhapsody.
Turns out, Derryn Hinch, during a recent interview, had mistaken his colleague photographer for his son.
When I pointed out that - at 43 and 21 - it was logistically possible, he got into such a funk we didn't even hear one 'you know I'm right about this' for the rest of the day.
So, to brighten him up, I reminded him that, while he only had a two-year-old, my baby turned 15 during the week. Clearly I'm easily winning the 'relax and enjoy life with chronic arthritis when you retire at 70' race.
But there are some benefits to getting older.
1. My younger colleagues come to me for "life advice". The other day I had three young males standing around my desk, all wanting help with various problems. I have owned a dog for six years and still can't get him to understand the dining table legs are not trees. Life coaching is clearly not my forte.
2. Young people defer to me at supermarket doors. It's probably because I've got a look on my face that says "it's five minutes to wine o'clock, let me get to the bottle shop or die" but I prefer to think it's respecting my advancing years.
3. I tend these days to be much more emotionally stable and content with my lot in life. Until I have a cup of tea and I have to strip down to my underwear until the hot flush wears off and I've stopped berating the poor cat for looking at me sideways with those evil, evil eyes.
4. Work satisfaction is also supposed to increase as you get older. I love my job and I like that I'm considered one of the office matriarchs, with all the privileges that entails. I'm just not sure my workmates like the fact I've replaced the word colleagues with minions.
5. Wrinkles are now my friend. There is no sense spending the kids' inheritance - which basically means one gets the incontinent dog and the other gets the evil cat - fighting Mother Time. All you can do is buckle in and enjoy the rest of the ride.