The Exchange

The boy is four years old, a grandnephew. He’d brought over four of his monster truck toys to play with as he visited his great grandmother. The trucks weren’t large, fitting into his palm space.

But he was sniffing one. “What’s that smell like?” his great-uncle asked.

“My green dinosaur.”

That was a surprise. “What’s your green dinosaur smell like?”

“Apples.”

Huh. “Do you know what you call a dinosaur who smells like apples?”

Head shake. “No.”

“An applesaurus.”

The boy threw his head back and laughed.