Charlie is on a mission to get baptized, "Before I turn to the evil side."
Because, as you well know, this is inevitable. One of the trickier parts of being a seven year old boy, really, that impending slide towards darkness.
There is one problem, though. "I am just a little guy and the baptizin' water is deep and I would drown before I got finished."
His solution? To drink 2 nutrition/protein shakes a day so he can grow quickly, before it is too late.
So today, in the McDonald's drive-thru, Charlie is offended by the offering of Spiderman toys for boys and instead opts for the Paul Frank designed little journal that is pink and purple and decorated with a sock monkey.
Charlie had decided earlier in the day that he needs a scrapbook for the pictures he draws of pigs and had made a rough attempt at stapling some pages together after school. The timing of receiving this treasure could not have been more perfect. After much analysis of Paul Frank's inexplicable penchant for sock monkey art, that he did indeed got paid for making it and that his name emblazoned upon it is a sign of designership and not ownership, Charlie determines that the notebook will work for his scrapbook and declares that he will write in it in pen so that it can last forever and be an ancient treasure.
"Yes, Charlie," I agree. "It will be an ancient treasure someday."
"Someday? What day?"
"Some day in the future, a thousand years from now, it will be an ancient treasure. But it has to be 'ancient' before it can be an 'ancient treasure'."
"So, what day will that be?" he demands.
"Um, March 9th, 2114."
Don't mock my math here. I'm driving and tired.
"Twenty-ONE fourteen? Shouldn't that be, errr, twenty-fourteen?"
"Yeah, but it will be a thousand years in the future. March 9, 2014 has already happened." I realize my error. "Wait, make that 3014. There was a place value error there."
Charlie starts to talk about what a cherished document his ancient treasure will be and his voice begins to break with sadness. "Even the sock monkey is sad about this."
None of us can figure out why Charlie is sad, until Dixie finally touches upon the idea that Charlie will not be able to take it to heaven with him ("There is not enough overlap," he explains) and this makes him sad.
Dixie offers, "If you die before me, I'll make sure to put it in the box with your body."
Charlie declares to me, "I'm probably going to die not long after you die, because there will be no one to remind me to go to the store for food and so I probably won't live very long after you."
After a few minutes spent vowing to make sure that all the people who know Charlie know that this sacred and future ancient document need to go to heaven with him, he realizes that his body doesn't go to heaven just his soul.
He makes us promise to tape it to his soul when he dies.
Melody starts to comment that this could take a lot of tape and perhaps also get messy, so I shoot her the look of death.
"We are taping it to his soul when he dies," I insist. "Don't give him any more ideas. Just tape."