My oldest accompanied me on a run yesterday.  He loped along beside me like it was nothing, a lot of bounce in his little step. He chattered away, telling me little stories.  My favorite was when he said he wasn't Shef, but rather She-fifi.  

"She-fifi is a right wing republican who thinks Donald Trump would make a great president."

"Actually, She-fifi is running for president as a green party candidate."

"She-fifi likes goat cheese."

"She-fifi is very religious."

I got to thinking that with all the chit-chat, maybe She-fifi needed a little more challenge, so I suggested a couple of little pick-ups.  "Just pick it up a bit between here and that next garbage can."  On each of these, the kid just shot out ahead of me and then waited patiently while I plodded in.  It was sort of demoralizing, but at the same time, She-fifi has a lovely smile and told me I did a good job on the run when we were all done.  It seemed like he meant it.