My son has a flare for drama. We make combat planes from bristle blocks. He asks me to use my plane to defeat his, which he breaks into pieces and drops to the sound of explosions. Then he asks me to celebrate my victory, and as I do so, he makes dramatic tones and slowly reveals another ship of his which he’d hidden before the first battle, and of course this one avenges his loss.

We’ve done this four or five times already.

At gymnastics my son like to pay the trainer after his lesson. My wife asked him if he wants exact change, or a bill that needs change. My son asked for the bill that needs change. So he paid with his 200 hryvnia note (about $7), and received 50 hryvnias in change (about $1.80). My wife let him add the change to his wallet. I think he has about $30 worth of hryvnias.

When I was putting him to bed at night, he asked me if he’s going to be poor because he has so little money. I told him that he wouldn’t because I’d give him money. He seemed relieved. “Like when I’m 10?” He asked. “No, probably when your 18, and again when you’re 21,” I said. Then I correct myself, “probably I’ll start giving you money when your 18 and then keep giving it to you little by little. The trick for you will be not to lose it. Or, even better, to figure out how to make it grow.” Then I again I found something to add: “If you make it grow nicely, you’ll be able to then help your own children.”

He thought about this. “When I have children,” he said, “I think I’ll let them play on their tablets all day without any limits, and I’ll let them use their mother’s telephone too if they want to.”