Walking with Little A today, I saw a “closing sale” sign in the window of a local store, that imported African art and crafts. “Oh no — Nharo is closing?” I said. “That’s too bad — I really liked that store…”

“Why is it closing?” asked Little A.

“I don’t know — it might be because they just weren’t making enough money, or maybe their landlord didn’t want to renew their lease or something. Those are the main two reason stores have to close down, I guess.”

Little A looked a bit disturbed, but didn’t say anything in reply. But about a block later, she said thoughtfully “I think I’m going to have to go see my uncle Scott, and have him show me how to build a tracking chip.”

“What for?”

“So that I can put it in a cell phone,” she said. “But I’ll hide it well so that it will look just like a normal cell phone, with normal wiring and everything. And then I’ll give them the phone, and wherever they go after that, I’ll be able to track them!”

“Wait, give who the phone? Who are you trying to track?” I asked, feeling, as I frequently do when talking to her, like the conversation is several steps ahead on her end.

“The people behind the counter!” she said, as if it should have been perfectly clear.

“Behind — oh, you mean at Nharo?”

She nodded. “And then, when they next see their landlord, I’ll know, and I’ll be able to follow them in my super-spy gear and kidnap the landlord, and tie him up really well, and put him in a plane, tied to the seat. And it would look like there was someone flying the plane, but it would really be just a hologram, because I’d be flying the plan by remote control, from my secret base. And the plane would have lasers, on the inside, so that even if the landlord got untied, he couldn’t escape. And I would fly the plane to an active volcano and straight down into the lava!”

“Well, er — that’s one way of dealing with the situation, I suppose….”

“Or maybe I should just fill the phone with TNT,” she mused. “That might be easier.”

“But why would you — oh, so they can blow up the landlord themselves?”

“That’s right!” she said with a smile. “I just thought that might be nicer for them.”

“You know, Sabotabby said once, in reply to a story about you that I posted on Facebook, ‘I love how many of these stories involve you saying to her ‘Honey, that’s a really sweet thought,’ and yet still somehow manage to feature lasers and explosives.’ I think this is another one of those…”

“Yes!” she replied happily. “All my best ideas are like that!”