“Who’s the boss of the world?”

Asked my then six year old daughter.

My straight out answer:

Welllllllll, the boss of our world is the Prime Minister of Canada.

Silence. A sure sign of absorbing the information. Testing for flaws in her world perception; then asks: “How do you become the Prime Minister?”


Entering dicey territory, thankfully dodging the “her” versus “them” (when it was more certain 99.9% surely really a “him” in a tribe of boys, adjusting to her sphere of understanding)

I responded by saying: “Usually, a Prime Minister is a lawyer or an accountant.

When she burst out:

Well then–I’m gonna be a lawyer!”

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