“Monkeys make horrible spouses,” I whispered to my daughter. “If I told you once, I told you a million times.”

“But, I looooooooooooooooooovvvvvvvvveeeeeeeee him!” She stamped her foot, grabbed for the stuffed animal, and ran toward the cash register. “Besides. Daddy was a monkey.”

“Exactly,” I responded, opening up my wallet. “Let’s see… cash or charge, honey? I promise it will be one or the other.”