Forty, and counting

Hazel: “Mom, I’m big. I’m three.”

Me: “That’s right. How old do you think I am?”

Henry: “One hundred!”

Me: “No–”

Henry: “Twenty-nine!”

Me: “I’ll give you a hint. I’m eleven years older than twenty-nine.”

Henry, after counting on his fingers: “Are you forty?”

Me: “Yes!”

Henry: “Wow, you’re really old.”

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3 Responses to Forty, and counting

  1. Stephen says:

    Henry is a BRIGHT delight.

  2. Jbug says:

    Because, of course, 40 is much, much older than 100. 🙂 Or maybe 100 is just more fantasy like? Less “old” and more “woah!” to Henry, or somthing.

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