Lucy: [on antibiotics, but still coughing from her two-week-long cold] “I’m dying.”

Kathleen: [in full emo character] “We are all dying.”

Me: ”Well, parts of us are always dying. We lose skin cells. We breath out dead cells. But at the same time we are making new cells. So we are all dying, and we are all coming to life at the same time. It all kind of balances out.”

Kathleen: “For someone my age, I guess. But you, dad …. mostly dying.”

No matter how the conversation starts, somehow it always ends with me getting roasted by my daughters.

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