Twenty-eight

"Mom!" my lovely teenage daughter hollers from her room.
Pausing from casting on the front to my Sidelines sweater I rely, "Twenty-eight!"
The lovely teenage daughter pauses and then hollers, "Dad!"

I have done my job. Both my daughters now know better than to interrupt a knitter (me) when she is counting. Now, we just need to work on the hollering from room to room in the house, but truly this does seem secondary to me.