Daddy's widdle woan shark

Alexander is attending pre-primary school twice a week now, making friends his own age (and enemies too, no doubt - the boy was cursed with my malignant genes) and getting used to the school routine. One of his occasional duties is Show-and-Tell, so, for the last few weeks, he's been the prowl for things to bring in to show his classmates.

Driving home from dinner a few nights ago, the boys were playing with the toys they received after the meal from the restaurant's toy chest. Zach had picked a bright blue superball - the kind of rubber ball that makes flubber look lethargic - and Alex was eyeing it warily.

"That's a cool ball, Zach."

"Yes!" He was obviously pleased at the wisdom of his decision. A brother's envy is so much more fun than, say, stickers.

"Do you think, maybe, I could bring it into my school for Show-and-Tell?"

Zach paused for a second. We passed a streetlight. I snuck a peek in the rear-view mirror and could see the gears turning as Zach thought about it.

"Sure."

"Wow. That's great. Thanks, Zach."

A beat. Then, "Give me monies."

"What?" Alex probably couldn't hear because of the laughter coming from both me and Michelle.

"Give. Me. MONIES! Yippee!"

"Alex," I tried to explain, "he's not letting you borrow the ball. You're renting it. He'll probably have a form for you to sign once the papers are drawn up." Okay, I guess I wasn't trying to explain.

"But, but, I don't have any money."

"Can't have it!" cried the Underdog. Victory, so rare and so sweet.

The Sharing Lecture commenced upon returning home, and we once again had Peace in Our Time.