getting old

Tripp got his tonsils out a week ago. We have survived. We're not completely out of the woods, but mostly. This was his third day back at playschool (as he has started calling it). On the way, I looked in my rear view mirror to see his head leaned over to the side with heavy eyelids.
me: What are you doing buddy?
him: ooooooooooh Mama. (mumbling)
me: What? I can't hear you? Say it loud
him: (moaning) ooooh Mama. I'm ooooold
[I could not stop laughing at this point]

I finally got it out of him that he heard it from his teacher. I said I was sorry, but he had a long long way to go before he was "old".

Here he is re-cooperating in "Mama and Daddy's bed":

Here is Frannie, showing her support by demanding a popsicle anytime anyone else got one: