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My abstract conversation with Kelsea this morning:
Me: Awww, Andy Rooney died!
Kelsea: Oh, that’s terrible! Really? I’m so sad!
Me: I know, but he was like 92, so it does happen.
Kelsea: But didn’t he just go somewhere or do something?
Me: Maybe. Probably. But not that I know of.
Kelsea: I loved him in those old movies.
Me: What old movies? He wasn’t in old movies.
Kelsea: He wasn’t?
Me: No, he was on 60 Minutes. He always did the commentaries at the end.
Kelsea: Oh, he was the really old guy who sat in his chair and talked about how bad everything was?
Me: Yes, that’s him.
Kelsea: I loved him. Wasn’t he also in some old movies? No, wasn’t he Matlock?
Me: No, that was Andy Griffith.
Kelsea: Oh. Are you sure he wasn’t in old movies?
Me: Yes, pretty sure.
Kelsea: But wasn’t he the one in the movies who was always smiling and trying to take three girls to the dance? Wasn’t that Andy Rooney?
Me: No, that was Mickey Rooney playing Andy Hardy.
Kelsea: What? Oh. I’m so confused. (Pause). I need some pants.
RIP, Andy. We did love you. And we really do know who you are.