Belly and the little ones

On our walk tonight, two small children come running out from their yard, yelling, "Doggie! Doggie!" I keep walking, pointing Annabelle straight ahead. The bigger one says to the smaller one, within earshot, "I guess she doesn't want us to pet him." I feel bad, so I look back at the little munchkins and say, "She's not real good with little ones."

The older one puts his hand on his head and says, real loud, "But I'm four!"

The smaller one: "I'm two!"