This morning, I woke up around 9, checked my computer for signs of cyber-communication, then returned to bed for some nice, relaxing thinking/napping time.  I do this often; I love to take advantage of snowdays by sleeping excessively.  It was around 9:48 when this humorous memory of my childhood came to me. 

So, there I was, sitting at the coffee table with my almost-30-year-old dad; I was about six years old.  As I often did back then, I was talking about what I wanted to do when I grew up; I was making plans for my future.  I wanted to be rich, I believe.  I must have said something to that effect, because my dad immediately gave a resounding, “You are!”  He said, “You have more money than we do!”  To prove him wrong, I went to get my Mason jar that had a slot cut in the top.  I poured out my few quarters, pennies, and dimes (I’m certain I didn’t have a nickel) and said smartly, “You call this rich?”  He must have chuckled at me–I know I would have– but he explained to me that I had money in the bank from my car accident and that I’d get it when I was older. 

I must’ve been so cute.  🙂

Sometimes, I wish I could go back to these random events that I remember, partly to clear up my story, partly to play with the little smart, cute, button-nosed me. 

One thing’s for sure: at one time in my life, I was rich.

I love when I remember funny little things like this from my bright and early days.