“Who’s the boss?” six-year-old Jason asked me, as he watched waiters and patrons milling about the busy Italian restaurant.
Across the room, a man dressed in a suit and tie was writing in a notebook and directing a waiter to clean and set up a table that was just vacated. After a few moments, I got his attention and he came over to our table.
 “Jason has a question,” I said. “Do you have a moment to answer it?”
“Sure. What is it Jason?”
Jason hesitated, looked at me, then back at the man. “Are you the boss?” he asked, a very serious expression on his face.
“I am the boss,” the man said with a smile.
Jason nodded. “How come you don’t work as hard as everyone else?”
The boss laughed and shot me a smile. “No one ever asked me that question before… Well, I work hard, but as you can see, it’s a different kind of work. My work is to tell everyone else what to do.”
Jason nodded again. “Do you make more money than everyone else?”
An even bigger smile stretched across the boss’s face. “I do make more money. That’s why you have to work hard in school; so one day you can be the boss.”
Jason nodded, his little brow furrowed, as he brushed his hand across his short blond hair.
“Thank you very much for spending time with us,” I said.
“Thank you,” Jason said.
“You’re welcome,” the boss said, and returned to his duties.
We each took a bite of pizza and sips of our drinks. Then Jason looked at me, and with utter sincerity said, “When I get big, I want to be the boss.”
“What kind of boss?”
“The boss of Doctors.”
Check back in twenty years to see what happens…
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