God bless my friend Ruth. Whose gray hair is her crown and who…
who graciously laughed as she relayed my son’s conversation with her this evening.
“What is your number he’d asked?”
Her number…uh…. Ruth’s wheels had started spinning–“what was this kid talking about?”
Only my son had meant, “how old are you?”
Which Ruth figured out.
And then told him.
At which time my son informed her with certainty, “You should be in heaven.”