Rub it in

"It's almost your birthday, mama!" says Big Dog. And he's right. It's right around the corner.
"Yep."
"How old are you?"
"On my birthday, I'll be 38." (keep in mind when I say 38, I mean 26. It's a weird little game I play.)
"Thirty-eight! Thirty-nine! FORTY!" he sings out loudly, bringing to light the reason I'm dreading this birthday.
"Hey! That's not nice."
He laughs.

Later Auntie Chihuahua comes over for dinner and while she and I are talking in the kitchen, Big Dog comes up and observes, "My mama is much bigger than you!" Nice wording kid.
"Yes," agrees Auntie Chihuahua, "She is much taller than I am!" emphasizing the ego-saving word swap.
"She must be much older than you!" he adds. Ouch.
"No, being taller doesn't always mean someone is older. Not in adults anyhow. We're actually just a couple months apart in age," she says, gently correcting his error.
"Do you know what he said earlier?" I ask. "He asked how old I was and I told him I was going to be thirty-ei-" Big Dog interrupts with enthusiasm
"Thirty-eight! Thirty-nine! FORTY!" he repeats nearly screaming the ascending ages.
"Why do you do that?" I ask. "I don't want to think about that!"
"I know," he says, grinning impishly. "But I think it's funny!"
Heh, yeah, really funny. I'll be over here crying when you get done yucking it up. Sigh