Harsh Words

I was helping Libby into her pajamas tonight and my little angel, standing nose to nose with me says, "Mom, You're old."

I bent her over my knee, tickled her until she couldn't breathe and informed her that she was facing serious trouble if she didn't take it back. This is how the rest of the conversation went:

"Who's older, me or Daddy?"

"You."

"How old am I?"

"Seventeen."

"How old is Daddy?"

"Eighty nine."

Alrighty then. My seventeen year old self isn't going to lose sleep over this one. I must say though, Shane looks good for eighty nine.