The Dent-ist

On the way in to gymnastics practice, Isabella (she’s 10) and I are behind an older model Ford pickup truck.

Iz:  Daddy, that’s an old truck.

Me: Yeah, it looks like it’s from the ’60s or so.  So, it’s about as old as me.

Iz:  Wow, that is old.  But it’s in Great shape.

Me:  Just like me!

Iz (fact-checking):  Dad.  You are definitely NOT in great shape.  You have a LOT of dents.

I soak in her words, and say,

Me (mostly to myself):  Yeah, Honey…  So many dents.

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