“Are we going out to play today, Twiggy?”

“I’m not sure. It is mighty hot out there.”

“I was out there earlier, and it seemed okay.”

“Yeah, that was before the gates of hell opened.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“We are coming into the summer, which is laughingly called ‘Hell’s back porch.'”

“Oh, I get it. A metaphor for high temperatures.”

“Since when have you become so literal?”

“I don’t know. I guess it comes with age.”

“That’s pretty funny. Leaves one minute and philosophical musings the next.”

“Go ahead, make fun. I just think I’m getting older, is all.”

“No offense. It just seems strange hearing you say that.”

“I’ll never be as old as you, but I am maturing. Squinch over, will ya?”

“Okay, I’ll admit you are getting older. How does it feel?”

“Geez, you ought to know. You have me by half a century.”

“I know how it feels with me. I was wondering about you.”

“It is hard to say. I guess it feels good to understand things more.”

“Like what?”

“Well, like knowing it is too darn hot to go out and play.”

“That is good understanding. How about a game of tug -o- war?”

“That would be fun. Let’s use Chicken Licken.”

“Sounds good.”