Most Thursdays Hannah and I drive up the Maine Turnpike to Scarborough, 40 minutes north of our home in York, to spend the afternoon with our grandkids, Brooks (5) and his identical twin sisters, Reese and Charlotte (3). After the kids jump on their backyard trampoline, we play bingo.
From left to right, Brooks, Poppa, Reese, Will, Omi, and Charlotte
The bingo cards have different games with animals on one side, numbers on the other side; letters on another card. As we start with numbers, I see the #23 and ask Brooks, Do you know what your dad’s favorite number is?
Brooks asks his dad. Will pauses, but I wonder aloud, Is it 23 because of Michael Jordan? He smiles in recognition of his youthful passion for the Chicago Bulls star.
Will then asks me, What is your favorite number? First, I am surprised when anyone asks me a question, but I regain my balance and think. Sitting next to Brooks who is looking at me, I say my favorite number is five. I ask him do you know why? He makes the immediate connection that he is five.
I then say, When you are six, I will have a new favorite number. And Brooks correctly guesses six. I add, When you are seven, it will be seven.
Brooks and I have a moment.
We begin number bingo. But soon he asks me, How old are you?
I’m surprised, but say, It has a 5 in it. He guesses 25. I say it’s a little more than that. We work our way to 35, then 45, 55, eventually to 75, when I say, You got it!
He then turns to me and whispers, My favorite number is 75.
I melt.
over60hiker 
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Your use of dialogue really captured this special moment between you and Brooks, and especially that final whisper. This reader melted, too! What a heart warming post! Love it!
No word from the Times yet. YET is the operative word.