It's time once again to check in with the antics of the MotherBunker nephew, and this time it's not necessarily because my own offspring have no fodder to provide the blog today. It's because if I don't keep my laptop on my lap, he might sell it right out from under my nose.

So, to recap: He's 7. Going on 42. A few weeks ago, he checked his piggy bank and decided it was getting a little too low on funds. I don't know why a 7-year-old needs a nest egg, but I'm sure I will one day. When I have a 7-year-old. Who's going on 42.

Anyway ... to quote the nephew, "When I get down to $2, I've got to start selling stuff."

Not his stuff, mind you. Other people's. He sold a pair of gloves with fur trim, belonging to his older sister but hoping to be used again one day by his mother, for $2.The taker? His grandmother. He sold a box of blueberry muffin mix, which my sister purchased for 75 cents, for the profit-making price of $1. He sold a chunk of brownie for a penny. (A penny?)

And then one day, my sister came home from work hungry, and headed for the bread drawer, where all good members of our family go for empty calories.

Except it was empty.

"Hold on there," my nephew, who had spirited the loaves to his "desk" ... aka, his shop, said. "Slices of wheat are $1 and white is 50 cents."

"Why is wheat more expensive?" my sister asked.

"Because it's harder to make. Obviously."

Obviously.

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