My teenage daughter asked me a question earlier today that made me feel a little crazy.

We were messing around with Winston and sort of gushing about how much we love him, and he was giggling, eating it up and being all… Winstony.

And my daughter goes, “Would you give Winston to someone if they paid you a million dollars?”

Can you guess what my answer was? Well, it wasn’t actually “no.”

It was, “HECK no.”

She was like, “Really? Not for a million dollars?” (as if I misheard her the first time and thought she asked if I’d do it for a million schmollars)

But yeah, I wouldn’t give Winston away for a million dollars.

So then she asked me a harder question.

“A billion?”

Hmmm, no. But as easy as it was to answer that, it makes me feel a little bit crazy. Have I lost my sense of reality? (it’s possible) Am I stupid? (wouldn’t surprise me) Couldn’t I find something cool to do with the money that would make up for not having Winston anymore? (nope)

Same goes for Sampson, by the way.

Money is nowhere near as fun to play with as those two guys. Money doesn’t tilt its head when I say, “Sampson, are you grumpy?” Money doesn’t flip out with excitement when I come home. Money doesn’t give me sloppy kisses when I’m crying about dog cancer.

That’s all I’m sayin’.