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.