Sam is quite the entrepreneur. He's always on a quest to make a buck from something and can often be found in the front yard with a folding table hawking his wares. Today he came home from school and decided to sell some of his excess toys in order to raise some funds for our trip on Sunday. After all, its in the mid fifties today and there are plenty of potential customers out enjoying the nice weather.
As I was pulling out the table from downstairs, I started to joke around a little with him.
Me: Hey so how much of a cut of your profits do I get for fetching the folding table?
Sam: Nothing! Well, maybe a dollar...
Sam: No way! Well, we'll see how much I get first.
Me: I bet if you can sell your brother to do some chores for people you'll get quite a lot.
Sam: Dad, he wouldn't fit on my table.
Me: Good point.
So now he's outside selling his old Millennium Falcon and some transformers just so he can go to a foreign country to buy souvenirs that he'll bring home and probably sell in a few months to buy something else. At least he won't be begging me for Tenge.