The boys are taking a road trip. Settled in the rocking chair, George and Darcy are driving down the highway, the big highway that goes to Toronto. After much discussion, it is determined that they are going to see a hockey game. We have Leafs fans in our midst? Evidently the traffic on the 401 westbound is intense this morning, judging from the number of vroom-vrooms, screeches, and honking of horns that ensue over the next few minutes. This wears a boy down after a while, and Darcy, the driver on the right, has an idea. "Let's stop when we get to the next Tim Hortons!" "Okay, yeah! And get some Timbits. Do you like hockey, Darcy?" "Yes. My daddy plays hockey with me." "I like hockey, too. My daddy will take me to a hockey game because I know all about hockey." George exudes calm confidence. This is quite a feat, given the boy is three and a half years old, and there was no NHL hockey last year at all. "The Senators? That's my favourite team." "No, that's not the best team." "The 67s?" "No, that's not the best team, either." "The Maple Leafs? The Canadians?" My jaw drops as Darcy rattles off all the teams in a 500 km radius. "The Flames?" Wow! 500 km and then some. Clearly someone around here is a hockey fan! George, however, from his heights of hockey knowledge, poo-poos all these suggestions. Darcy is confused. "That's all the hockey teams there is, George!" Okay. He's good, but he's not perfect. "No, it's not. That's not the best team. No, my favourite hockey team is the Red Sox."