Getting Told by a Four-Year-Old

We were at the pool and I was French braiding my hair when I noticed McKenzie looking intently at my armpits.  Finally she asked, "What are those things?"  Correctly divining that she meant the 2 mm stubble that I had been too lazy to shave, I replied, "What, you mean hairs?  Those are hairs." "Why?"  "Well, because I didn't shave them."  "Why?"  "Um, because . . . I just didn't get to it today."  Silence.  Then, "Can you put your arms down? I don't like to see those . . . hairs."