“I can’t believe Analeisa is going to fly to CHINA next year! That’s, like, 24 hours away!” Isabelle declared as she sat the table for dinner.
“You can read a lot of books in that time!” I offered.
“Yeah, but how will they sleep?”
“I’m sure their bodies will ache when they get there,” I said.
“I’d only go to China if I could have a bed on the plane,” Isabelle declared. “Or I wouldn’t go.”
“I could ride my bike to China,” Ari said.
“You can’t ride your bike to China,” Isabelle said.
“Why not?” Ari asked.
“You have to cross the Pacific Ocean,” I replied.
“Well, then I’d swim,” Ari said. (Mind you, this child has only had one swim lesson in his life. It was two days ago.)
“You can’t swim to China!” Isabelle retorted. “It’s too far!”
“And too wavy,” I added.
“Well, I could swim there,” Ari said.
“It would take you, like, a billion days!” Isabelle said.
“If he made it,” I said. “He might get eaten by a shark somewhere in the Pacific.”
“Fine, then I won’t swim to China!” Ari said. “I will fly there!”
“You need to get a bed on the plane,” Isabelle suggested.
“Well, then I guess you’ll have to make a lot of money,” I said. “First-class tickets with bed-like seats cost a lot of money.”
“I have a lot of money,” Ari offered between bites of his chicken and broccoli.
“Oh yeah? How much do you have?” I asked.
“I have a Lincoln,” he said.
“And I have $19 dollars,” Isabelle added.
“So all together, you have $24. I don’t think that’ll buy you a bed to China.”
“I’ve got some change too!” Ari said.
“Pennies, right?” I asked.
“I think you’ll need more like a few thousand dollars for each first-class bed to China.”
Their eyes widened.
“I have money in my tzedakah box too!” Ari said.
“You can’t take money out of your tzedakah box!” Isabelle told him.
“She’s right. That money is for people or animal or organizations that need money. It isn’t for buying beds for plane trips to China.”