Klara is grappling with the issue of the beginning of human life.
“When grandpa was born,” I tell her, “he was a tiny little baby, and his mommy and daddy. . .”
“And where was I?” she asks suspiciously.
“You weren’t born yet.”
“I was born! I was born, mommy! I was there when grandpa was a baby. He was so cute! And I was his mommy. And he was my mommy!”
“And who was I, then?” I ask.
“You were the aunt,” she explains without skipping a beat.
(I already explained that before she was born, she was a very tiny baby in my tummy until she was ready to come out, and that went over great.)