Before bed tonight. . .

Ava: Mom, are you sixteen?
Me: No, honey, I’m thirty-six.
Ava: Oh, then you are going to die soon?
Me: I don’t think so.
Ava: Well, when will you die?
Me: Probably when I’m very old, but nobody ever knows for sure when they’ll die.
Ava: Oh. Good night, Mom.

(Glad she can go right to sleep after that conversation. I might be up for awhile contemplating mortality.)

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