Michael is my six-year-old neighbor who once asked me if I had any kid to play with him. The negative reply disappointed him, but he kindly declared that I was his friend and could come to visit him anytime.
One late afternoon I answered my doorbell and found Michael there with a girl about his age. She was very girly, blond hair long and curly, dressed in pink, her whole appearance screaming Barbie. In a flustered yet determined voice she explained that her name was Saturday and she was selling Girl Scout cookies, oh no snacks not cookies, and would you be interested sir?
What choice did I have, except to extend my hand for the colorful menu and browse through it? Something about mint and chocolate, ten dollars. Something else that involved orange and cranberry, seven bucks. I handed her a twenty and asked if she had three dollars to give back to me.
"Yes I do," she assured me and opened her Barbie purse. It was empty, but she was a quick thinker. "I'll go home and ask my Mom for it," she said. "Be right back!"
She hurried away on her little pink bike. Michael also decided to leave.
Ten minutes later she came back and put into my hand two crumpled singles and four quarters. She said to me while getting on her pink bike again:
"I'll come back to deliver your order, hopefully!"
Hopefully? I bet she just learned that word and thought it would be nice to use it to conclude a business transaction.