The difference between being and four and a half and three years older than that can be pretty marked.
While driving up Sixth Avenue last weekend, with the Empire State Building looming ever larger into view, M’s first cousin, once removed (to use the official terminology) gave us an apparently accurate and quite detailed synopsis of King Kong, which he’d recently seen.
About 30 secs into it, the younger cousin piped up, “he’s a big monkey!” which he later clarified to “a big gorilla,” after which the synopsis run-down continued.
I’m going to miss such innocence when it’s gone, I know it.