Riding our bikes to school this morning, singing snatches of nonsense song and talking about nothing much, I tell F that one day he will be leader of the world. (I have no idea why.)
'Oh no,' he says, suddenly serious. 'I wouldn't want to do that.'
'Because you'd look so important, no one would talk to you.'
'Oh. That's probably true. What about if you were leader of Australia?'
'Yep. Still too important.'
The little man on the pedestrian lights flashes green. F pedals ahead, over the main road.
He calls over his shoulder: 'I'd like to be leader of Yarraville, though.'