How old are you?

We were having an impromptu picnic lunch today in a little park right next to an office complex. There were about a dozen kids running around, and it was clear that it was "outside time" for the complex's day care center. We unpacked our sandwiches and four little girls suddenly materialized right in front of our bench, openly staring.

Them: Who are you?

We introduce ourselves.

They digest this information. The one in the pink dress with the glitter star on it turns and whispers to the one in the striped leggings. She nods, then whispers in the ear of the blond on her right, who also nods. The one on the other end in the rainbow tee is not consulted but does not appear to mind being excluded from the discussion. She's eying our tater tots. They turn as one and confront us again.

Them: (via the pink dress spokesperson, pointing at my niece) How old is she?
My niece: I'm six. How old are you?
Them: (following another brief conference) We're four. Well, some of us are five, but mostly we're four.
Them: (Pointing to me) How old are you?
Me: I'm 44*.

Their mouths drop open and they flee in horror. We eat in peace.

* Which means I am old enough to find this video of a woman who has recently had her office equipment upgraded hysterical.