So I'm making coffee as the two youngest are eating breakfast. They're watching a cartoon, but I'm not awake enough—note the "making coffee," not "drinking coffee" bit—to know what, and the television is mercifully out of my line of sight.
The Brawn says, matter-of-factly, "When you get older your grip looses." He takes another bite. "You can't hold on like when you were young."
The Golden Weasel chews thoughtfully. "Yeah," she agrees.