Respect for their elders

Thanksgiving weekend was spent in Portland with Grandma and Grandpa. As usual the boys had a blast. My mom may spoil them just a little, and Grandpa is kind of silly too. Unfortunately, when we spend the weekend with Grandma and Grandpa, the boys are generally so keyed up, they don't sleep much. In fact, just about the time they would be heading to bed at home, they are running though the house like wild animals, jumping and fighting, yelling and laughing. It can take quite a while to settle them down afterward.
Other times their nighttime antics involve trying to tackle family members, or sneak attacking a seated grandparent by springing into their lap. On Friday, this was the game, and after attacking Grandma, she had to warn them off. "Grandmas can be broken," she warned. "You need to be gentle with me. You're healthy and strong because you're so young!"
Little Dog thought this over and asked, "How young am I?"
"You're three!" said grandma.
"No, how young am I?" he asked again, rejecting her answer.
"You're three, you'll be four in February," she repeated.
"No, not how old am I? How young am I?" he insisted.
"Well, you're three years old, or three years young, either way you are very young."
"And you are very very old," offered Big Dog.
"Yes. You are very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very very old," agreed Little Dog.
I probably should have stopped them, but we were all too busy laughing. I've obviously raised some very tactful children here.