Annals of fatherhood

Little B., upon my half-feigned, half-genuine complaint that he checked a boring non-fiction book out of the library for us to read rather than a good story with swords and heroes:

"I like facts, you need to learn them. You can read this book to me and study and, that way, if you get better you can become an oceanographer and we can move to California and live in a house close to Grandma and Poppa and visit them often and go to Krispy Kreme."

Facts! Hell, naw! Now, more than ever, I want stories. 

And I don't think that oceanography is a plausible way for me to return to professional life. 

But the sunshine and doughnuts sound good.