The other night, as we were eating dinner, my six-year old turned to his mother. “Mom,” he said. “I wish you were younger.”
“Why’s that?” she asked.
“Because then I could marry you.”
“No,” his little brother shouted. “You can’t marry your family.” He gestured dramatically with his hands. “It’s not allowed.”
I wish I could report that I had some witty reply, but this exchange came from so far out of left field that I had nothing. My wife, on the other hand, leaned over and gave the six-year old a big hug and a kiss.