"Isabella," I called out to my granddaughter from my chair. I knew she was in the next room, so I wouldn't have to get up to go find her.
"Coming," I heard her call. She bounced in. "Hi, Otto," she said. I don't know why she calls me Otto. My name is Leonard.
"My name is Leonard," I said.
"I know, Otto. What's up?" Oh, well. She's 12.
"How would you like to go to a concert?" I asked her.
"Concert?" she said. "You mean, with you? What kind of concert?"
"A rock concert. Sting is coming to the Amphitheater. You know, Sting?"
"Yeah," she said. "He's Vaal's dad. I read about him. Does he do hip-hop?"
"Wait, who is Vaal?"
She looked like she was deciding whether to laugh. "Sting's daughter," she said instead.
"So I gather. How do you know who she is?"
"Vaal -- you know," she said. She let out a quick sigh I could have easily missed if I weren't looking for it. "I Blame Coco, her band? Her new album, Nosferatu...?"
After a beat, I said, "What age do you think I am?"
"Age?" she said.
"I don't know."
"Well, try to figure it out. Use your math."
"Ugh, math. Well, okay. There are basically only two ages, anyway."
"Really? Two? What are they?"
"Young and not young anymore."
"When does 'does not young anymore' start?"
"I don't know. I guess about 20."
"Okay, then," I said. Since she's 12, she still has time. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure Sting doesn't do hip-hop, so never mind."
"Okay," she said, and left. A minute later she was back. "Otto?" she said. "Let's go get ice cream."
"Ice cream?" I said.
"Yeah," she said. "Getting ice cream is like you. It never gets old."
(Word count: 299)