“It’s the same age as me!” Brenna calls. We’ve left the castle for now and are venturing farther into the canyon. Or trying to. Brenna is falling behind to catch and count spots on a ladybug.
It crosses my mind to correct her. There’s no such thing as a nine-year-old ladybug. Spots don’t indicate age. But I think I’ll wait until it doesn’t undermine her excitement. “Wow, it’s an old one,” I call back.