We were all in the car this morning. I decided to prep Kenzie for her dentist appointment this afternoon. The conversation went like this:

[me]: Kenz, you get to go see the dentist this afternoon.
[Kenzie]: Why do I have to go to the dentist?
[me]: Because he needs to look at your teeth and make sure they're in good shape. People who eat a lot of candy sometimes have bad teeth. When Grammy was a little girl she ate too much candy and then had to have gold put in her teeth.

[Kenzie]: Yeah, I know. I don't know where Dorothy was during that time.

...pause, nobody said anything. Cindy almost drove off the road. We exchanged glances as if to say, "did she just say what I think she said? Was she referring to her great grandmother that she's never met?"

In response, and likely because she thought I don't know my heritage as well as she does, she replied, "That was her mom."