I was driving around with the kids today and Olivia said to me
Daddy, when are you going to get a real work...
What do you mean, Honey, a real work? You mean a real job?
Yes, a real job, Daddy?
But Sweetheart, I have a real job.
No Daddy, a real job like a farmer. When are you going to work on a farm?
(It helps a little to know that lately, Olivia has been fascinated with going to a farm so she can pet and hold a baby duck.)
Well, Sweety, probably never.
Oh, I thought maybe you could be a farmer someday or a prince.
(At this point, I thought I'd seize my opportunty to change the drift of this conversation.)
Well, I aren't I sort of a King? Aren't I the King of our house, and Mommy is the Queen and you and Malcom are the princess and prince. Right?
No, Daddy! You're a Prince and Malcolm is a Prince and I'm a Princess and Mommy is a Princess...
Oooh!
And Malcom is the Prince to Mommy's Princess and I'm the Princess to your Prince, Daddy
Freud would be highly ammused...