"There are a lot of spooky sounds that come from our house." Lauren reported at breakfast.
"Hmm. You mean like floorboards creaking when we walk on them?"
"Yup. And that big banging sound..." she shuddered dramatically.
"Oh. Yes. That's the steam coming up through the pipes and hitting the cold radiators." I replied. "They make a whistling sound too, as the steam comes out."
"It's all so spooky," she said sadly.
"Well, it is living in an old house. If you know what makes the sounds, perhaps it isn't quite so scary?"
"How old is the house?"
"Older than me."
"Oh." She thought a minute. "Older than Grampie Fisher*?"
"Yep. Even older than Great-Grampie Fisher."
"Wow." she said. "Now that is old."
*Grampie isn't identified as the benchmark of old, it's just that his birthday was yesterday. The Lauren definition of birthday is a year older than you were the day before. He's not Lauren's oldest grandparent. Poppy is, at 61. Great-Grampie also isn't the oldest great-grandparent, but we try to have linear family conversations - Lauren is my daughter, and Grampie is my dad, and Great-Grampie is his dad. The house is the same age as Lauren's Great-Grandpa Leo, who turned 90 in March.