In the car this afternoon as we headed for the Y, my son (absolutely out of nowhere) said: “You know, Dad, in 2090 I’ll be 88 years old.”

I don’t expect to be around in 2090. But there’s every chance that he’ll be.

[To the tune of Paul McCartney & Wings, “Venus and Mars / Rock Show / Jet,” from the album Wings Over America (Disc 1) (a 4-star song, imo).]