Pat a Cake

At the bagel cafe (yes, they let us in the door, perhaps because the Lump was secured in her stroller, but that lasted about 30 seconds, and she spent half the short stay rolling around on the floor while the Bean said, "Lena, pretend to be a fish! Like this!") the Bean became reflective, since the cafe reminded her of her of-late-realized career decision to become a baker:

"Will I see you when I'm big?"

"Sure." (Thinking: "If I'm not at my South American bungalow, dear.")

"Maybe you can live next door to me!"

"That would be fun."

A realization strikes: "Maybe you can work with me at my bakery! We can bake cakes together!"

Now, that just beats South America, don't it? At least during the rainy season...