Imagine a six year old running around a sprinkler, wearing a sparkly pink Barbie one-piece. She has blond hair, and huge blue eyes, and every once in a while trips and falls. After she’s exhausted from her adventures in the sprinkler, she falls back on to the grass to bask in the summer sun. Her grandma, a short, somewhat fat woman with a slight Upstate New York accent (which sounds like a Canadian and Midwestern hybrid, just to help you imagine), brings her a peanut butter and honey sandwich and a glass of milk.

“So, Mandie, what are you thinking about?”

“School.” the tiny voice, thick with peanut butter.

“Why?”

“I get to choose a class next year, in second grade.To get a job when I grow up.”

“You have a long way til you grow up, sweet pea.”

“I know, but I already know what I want to be. I want to do two things.”

“Really, honey, what are those?” She asks, wiping the girl’s honey-covered face.

“I want to be a paleontologist. I love dinosaurs.”

She nods, “What else?”

“I want to be a nun.” she grins.