worst fear, realized.

Ben got a piggy bank from his Aunt Jilly as his gift for being her ring bearer. He begged coins off of everyone, and the tiny pig weighs like five pounds. I went to get the baby who had just woken from his nap, and Ben scampered into our bedroom, where he found more coins stored away in a tall glass vase we keep next to our bed. He stuck his arm in and dug out every coin, forcing it into the slot on the pig's back. "More coins. More coins," he said. The baby began to cry. His nose was running, and he wasn't feeling so hot today. "Look at the baby," I said. "He's sick." Ben did not look. "More coins, more coins," he repeated. "Poor baby," I said. "His nose is running." "Coins," Ben demanded.

I think I might be raising a Republican.