The other day, I asked you how many kids you were going to have when you grew up. You said 6, and then asked me where you were going to live. I told you I hoped nearby so I could see you a lot, and that I hoped your brother Bubba and sister Dagny, also lived close by. You told me you could live next door. And then, like an epiphany, you told me you could live in our basement. And, since we just got a free futon from a neighbor, and you just learned the terminology, "futon," you explained that your kids could all sleep on the new futon. After I expressed concern over the space issue, you said you could solve it with just having four kids, this way, they'd all fit on the futon. Problem solved!