Me: Do you know how old I’ll be on my birthday?
Rooby: No. We’ll have to ask Baba.
Rooby: Only Baba knows how old you are.
Me: Well, I know how old I am too.
Rooby: Oh! How old will you be on your birthday?
Rooby, shrieking with joy: Thirty-nine! Thirty-nine!! Aw, I wish I were thirty-nine.
Rooby: Because I love you.