Wren: Mum when are you going to die of oldness?
Shannon: Me?
Wren: Yes, you. When you get more crinkly?
Shannon: I don't know. In a long time. When do you think?
Wren: This December? This year.
Shannon: You think that I will die of oldness this year!!
Wren: No, get more crinkly. Like this...
[Wren draws wiggly lines on the paper]
Shannon: Oh, WRINKLY.
[thinking how to approach this]
Shannon: I don't think I will get suddenly wrinkly this year. Am I wrinkly now?
Wren: Your forehead looks kind of wrinkly. Do I look wrinkly on my face?
Shannon: No, you don't. Why is that?
Wren: I don't know. Maybe that is because I haven't grown up to my maximum size. People grow up to their maximum size and then they grow crinklier and crinklier and crinklier.
Shannon: How crinkly do you get before you die?
Wren: As grown up as you can get. Like this... I am this tall then grow --> Grow --> GROW till super tall.
Shannon: I have stopped getting taller any more. What happens then?
Wren: You just get older and older and older and then...... I don't know.
