Here we are, swept away once again by the feminine wiles of the Girl Scouts.
Oh, sweet little business women, with the twinkle in your eyes and the cash in your box, your patched vest and your bouncing ponytail. I cannot resist you. Certainly, the men on your market will have no hope; they will have only cookies.
“You can buy four boxes,” I said to my son. “And bring back the change.”
He came back with five boxes and no change.
“Five? What happened here?”
“She told me I forgot to buy one more.”