The Planet of Genii

My grandson constantly amazes me. His brain works on a rarified level that seems to indicate he emigrated from another planet.

Now, lest you zip off a critical e-mail to me, assuming I'm saying my granddaughter is less intelligent, just hold on. She has her own brilliance—artistic brilliance—which I will be extolling for years to come.

But Boston. Ah, Boston.

The other night the three of us were having our ritual Tuesday dinner at Denny's. He said, "When I grow up, I'm going to have a business that is a spa for animals. It's going to be named S'Paw. Get it? spa[w]. And the apostrophe between the "s" and the "paw" will be a pawprint."

I was flabbergasted. Would you please tell me what eight-year-old child thinks like that?! A lemonade stand? Sure. A life as a fireman or policeman? Sure. But a spa for animals with the logo already defined?

I'm impressed.