All three of my children are obsessed with time and numbers, and lately they’ve been doing this thing where you tell them that they can play video games for an hour, or they need to take 15 minutes and straighten their rooms before bed, or OH MY GOSH, WILL YOU PLEASE STOP TALKING FOR 5 MINUTES – and they respond with “ok, I’ll count to 60 ____ many times!”
And then they literally count to 60 aloud, however many times.
At lunch yesterday, my twins were discussing their height(s) regarding their age(s). My daughter, the older one by three minutes, is half a head shorter than her brother and thinks that the world is a cruel place for it’s unfairness because – as you know – older means taller. She must have suddenly remembered the time stamps of their birthday, because she quickly dropped her beef with her genetics/the universe, asking:
“Wait, mom, how many minutes older am I…?”
“So, were you just like, counting to 60 three times…?”
“I promise you that’s not what I was doing, no.”
“Well, that’s what I would have done…”
I know this. I know this very well.