Time after dinner, while I was surfing internet, my two-year-old grandchild, Vivian came and sitting on my lap.
“Grandpa, you drank stout?” she asked sniffing like a dog.
I nodded to her and signed her to shut up. My daughters discourage me to take alcohol.
“Oh I understand, because your hair becomes grey, right?” Vivian said with naivety.
I giggled, saying nothing.
“Grandpa, I’ll tell you a secret, my daddy likes to smoke cigarettes. His hair is black.”
I nearly burst into laughter. I’m a pensioner aged sixty-three. Although my granddaughter’s logic may sound absurd, I can interpret her idea as a concern to my health.
“Grandpa, you drank stout?” she asked sniffing like a dog.
I nodded to her and signed her to shut up. My daughters discourage me to take alcohol.
“Oh I understand, because your hair becomes grey, right?” Vivian said with naivety.
I giggled, saying nothing.
“Grandpa, I’ll tell you a secret, my daddy likes to smoke cigarettes. His hair is black.”
I nearly burst into laughter. I’m a pensioner aged sixty-three. Although my granddaughter’s logic may sound absurd, I can interpret her idea as a concern to my health.
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