My seven-year-old nephew, Reece, and I have our best conversations when we’re in the car:
Reece: Hey, Nessa?
Vanessa: Yes, Reece?
R: When I grow up and get big I’m going to have a lot of money.
V: Oh, yeah?
R: Yeah, I already have my own wallet.
V: Oh, wow.
R: And I know what I’m going to be when I get big.
V: What’s that, Reece?
R: I’m going to be a paper boy and make a lot of money.
V: That’s great, Reece, but you probably won’t make a lot of money being a paper boy.
R: Why? Don’t people like paper boys?
He's so cute. At this moment I want to pull over the car and squeeze him.
In Reece’s world paperboys would be millionaires, and nurses who give shots would be paupers.