I bought it on eBay weeks and weeks ago. He knew I had it. He knew I had bought it for a Christmas present. He would open my closet and stare at it in awe. "Awwwww, I've got to have it," he'd say, feigning absconding with it.
I offered to sell it to him. The price? All the money in his wallet. Plus his savings.
I offered to let him earn it. The price? Stay in his own bed five weeknights in a row. In other words, no coming to our room in the middle night, pseudo-whispering, "Hi, Guys," as he climbed into the sleeping back at the foot of our bed.
His longest stretch? Four and one-half nights.
Easy mark that he is, Pete gave in.
And Youngest and I built the X-wing fighter Friday night.