“Oh, one more thing,” I said, wrapping up a phone call with a young friend from work this afternoon. “You have GOT to go see Dolphin Tale. Promise me you will. It’s amazing. I just saw it.”

Was that a snicker I heard on the other end of the phone?

“Um, yeah, sure,” she said, pausing for a moment (probably to snicker some more, silently). “Really?!”

“Yes!” I said, still red-eyed from crying for two hours over the (SPOILER ALERT) heart-warming tale of a dolphin that loses its fin in a tragic fishing accident — then finds a soulmate (and a rescue) in a young boy who has poor social skills and worse grades after being abandoned first by his father and then his cousin, who returns injured from an unnamed war (get it? just like the dolphin!) and together the boy, his cousin and the dolphin — with help from Morgan Freeman — all learn to triumph over their particular “handicaps” — oh, and they also manage to save a marine rehabilitation facility that was about to close due to lack of funding. And there’s a big hurricane.

It’s based on a true story, you know.

Fine. When you put it like that, I’m snickering a little, too. What’s happened to me, I wondered after I hung up the phone with my 24-year-old pal — a girl who, like me, curls her lip at feature films and knows all the latest alternative bands. Oh wait, that used to be me. Am I losing my edge?

Have I changed?

The other day, I was chatting with my dear friend Deborah about something or other and I happened to comment that I haven’t changed one bit since Sophie was born.

Deborah didn’t snicker, she actually snorted. But I just don’t see it. Yeah, I might work a little less (or hide my workaholic tendencies better) and okay, today I did post a video to my Facebook page of Elvis Costello  and Elmo singing about how someone stole their red 2,  set to the tune of “The Angels Wanna Wear My Red Shoes” (a video that not long ago would have struck me as sacrilege) but really, I’m still the same snippy, snotty, sarcastic bitch I’ve always been. Right?

Most nights, Sophie finds her way into our bed and I find myself yelling at her in my half-sleep to quit kicking me. I’m not particularly kind about it. (See? I haven’t changed.) In the morning, she’s always full of apologies. The other night, Ray was out of town and Sophie and I shared the king-size bed alone. She stayed on the other side all night. I didn’t even know she was there til a little hand reached over to softly hold mine, just as the sun was beginning to peek in through the curtains. I opened my eyes and melted, albeit blearily. (OK, maybe I’ve changed a little.)

As we were getting into the car after the movie this afternoon, Annabelle remarked that Winter the tail-less dolphin reminded her of Sophie. “Well, it’s not like Sophie can’t walk, but she can’t run as fast as other people. She can’t do a lot of things other people can do,” Annabelle said matter-of-factly.

She pulled her seatbelt across her chest and sighed happily. “I’m just so lucky to get to have Sophie as my sister,” she said.

I’m lucky, too, I thought, as we pulled out of the parking lot.

I’ve always thought that, right?

OK, maybe I have changed. Maybe a lot.

But hey, who hasn’t? I looked up a video of Elvis singing the red shoes song from 1977. Now that’s a difference. Check him out.