A conversation over lunch

Note: Verbatim. I swear.

"You know what I would do with the money if I went on 'America's Got Talent'?" said my son, obviously daydreaming about anything but kindergarten.
"I'd give half to daddy so he could buy scrap metal." My husband in fact does work in the recycling industry, so this was awfully kind of the little guy.
"What would you do with the rest? Do I get any?" I asked, already feeling that the teen years are really going to suck. "And what about your sisters?"
"Wellllllll, I'll buy you each a stuffed teddy bear. And with the rest of the money, I'm going to buy 30 pounds of bubble gum. And an RV. And if I have enough money left over, a van."

At this point, I'm imagining myself, chomping on bubble gum, hugging a teddy bear, and us all sitting around in an RV while we pull a van behind. Wouldn't that just be his dream come true?

"So, what are you going to do on 'America's Got Talent'? What's your act?" we asked him.
"I don't know. I can't do any tricks with our dog because she's too old and too blind. I think I'll just spin around on my thumb."

OK, then.

Ten minutes later, after we'd finished lunch, he comes walking back in. "I just can't help it, mom. I keep thinking about that bubble gum. I'd buy every flavor in the world!"

"Well, of course! That goes without saying," I answer, thinking that if I had a million dollars I'd spend almost every last penny for even a slice of that innocence, and the rest I'd blow on bubble gum. Every flavor in the world.