Last night Joel and I talked while I rubbed his little feet after our now-traditional Easter hike to Tablerock. He practically skips up the whole way with some amazing God-given endurance.
So he says, "How old are you and dad?"
"Guess. "
"17?"
"A little older."
"18?"
"Olde?"r."
"19"
"Older."
"20"
"No, higher."
"21"
"22"
"23"
"24"
"25?"
"26?"
"27?"
"28?"
"That's close enough, Joel."
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