What’s age?

Their Father: So how old do you think I am?

The conversation had turned to age.  Somehow.

Evan: You’re oooooold.

I took a sip of milk to hide my smile. 

Their Father: Well, how old am I?

Evan: You’re ooooold.

He used the same inflection I used when talking about their father’s age.  I drank some more milk.  I should leave the room.

Their Father: Well, how old is ooooold?

Evan: You’re oooooold.  You’re 41!

Their Father: No.  I’m 40.  I’ll be 41 in June.

Evan: No.  You’re 41!

Their Father: No, I’m 40.

Evan: No.  You’re 41!

Their Father: No, Evan.  I’m still 40.

Evan: No.  You’re 41!

Their Father: (sighs) Fine. How old is Mommy?

Evan looked over at me.  I smiled at him and winked.

Evan: She’s 29!

I didn’t hide my smirk.

Their Father: I see you have him well-trained.

I saluted him with my glass.  Yup, I am the evil genius in this house.