Amy was going out to eat wings with a friend, and she invited me. Overhearing this, my mom piped in.
Mom: Wings?! I've been craving wings! I want to come!
Amy: You can't come.
Me: Hahaha, I'm only going to go if Mom comes along. We can make it a family thing.
Amy: No.
Mom: What? Why not?
Amy: 'Cause you're old.
Me: So what? Wings are wings. Heck, let's invite Grandma, too!
Mom: Yeah! We'll have three generations going out for wings!
Amy: No, that would only be two generations.
Mom: Huh?
Me: How do you figure that?
Amy: Because you and me are one generation, and Mom and Grandma would be another generation.
Me: You have no idea how generations work, do you?
Amy: Yeah, I do. We're young, and they're old.
Me: So Mom and Grandma are in the same generation, then?
Amy: Yeah, 'cause they both have grey hairs.
Me: So when you get old and get grey hair, you'll be in the same generation as Grandma?
Amy: No, Grandma will be in the dead generation by then.
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