One day last week after I picked up Emmie from school, while concentrating on navigating the aravan out of
the parking lot and keeping with the school zone speed limit out on the street, I caught the words “hundred dollar bill” as she chattered about her day. It took me a few seconds for it to
fully register on my brain. “Wait a minute—back up,” I said. “What did you say?”
“Frankie gave me a hundred dollar bill today,” she said. Of course I’m thinking it was one of those fake bills, like the
old $3 bill with Bill Clinton on it, but I asked to see it anyway. She passed it up to me, and I almost pulled the car over. It looked, smelled and felt like a real hundred dollar bill (not that I
handle a lot of those on a regular basis, but this was definitely not something out of a Monopoly …
