The Monkey hands me a beanbag.
“It’s a flyer,” she said, and bounces off to the living room, where she has arranged a dozen of her stuffed animals on chairs and the couch. She places a beanbag in front of each animal.
“I’m passing out flyers to all my animal friends,” she explains, in case I hadn’t figured this out on my own.
“That’s great, honey,” I say, wondering where my daughter got the idea to pass out flyers, hoping that she is playing political activist and not Jehovah’s Witness or guerilla marketer. “What do the flyers say?”
She stops and looks at me with as much disdain as a three year-old can muster. “Pretend things don’t say anything, Dad.”