(Five-year-old) Isabella: Daddy, when it’s your next birthday, you’ll keep growing.
Me: No, Honey. I’m as tall as I’ll ever be.
Iz: Why did you stop growing?
Me: Well, when people turn 17 or 18 or 19, they just stop.
Iz: Oh, so Mommy must have stopped growing when she was 19. And, you must have stopped when you were 17.
Me: I suppose.
Iz (shooting me a look, and laughing): Or, maybe even earlier.