Tubular

Last week when I picked up Will at Kidz Club, he asked me "Daddy, do I have four dollars at home?" Yes, I replied, why do you ask?

"Because I want to buy that tube from Devin."

Devin was holding a tube, maybe four inches in diameter and six feet long. It was quite a big cardboard tube.

"We can race cars down it," Will says.

But four dollars, really?

"Yeah, Devin made it cheap."

The moment passed, but not the sentiment. A week later, leaving the minivan on our way into school, Will was talking about that damn tube, looking under the seats for money. I told him we'd make it a priority to find a tube over the weekend.

Friday, when we got home after school, Will was sorting through money, presumably to buy some terrible goopy crap he saw at the IGA. He then reached for two rubber balls, street value of about three cents.

"I'm going to try to give Devin these for that tube," he says. Is that something you discussed with Devin? I asked. "No."

Should make for an interesting negotiation.