Hmmmmmmm

Yesterday was my oldest grandchild's birthday.  She turned nine.  In her mind being nine is very, very different than being eight.  She says it's a much more complicated year and it also marks a new season of being much more fashionable.  Well, she was decked out in sunglasses, a hat like her Aunt Miriam wears, necklaces and a casual but chic top, stretchy capris and sneakers.  And, she was feeling it big time!  (Just setting the stage here.)

In the midst of the conversation, she says to me, "paPa, are you going to be alive when I grow up?"  I say, "Well, I'm planning on it. She says (with a tone of give-me-a-break in her voice), "How... can you plan on it.?" "Well, you are nine now and nine more years makes you what?"  "Eighteen, she says." "Well, eighteen is considered being grown up in a lot of ways and nine more years isn't that far away." Then it happened.  She then asked,  "Then how old will you be? About 99 or 107?"  Silly child.