Of late, June has taken to requesting a "present" at bed time. The present doesn't have to be anything extraordinary—just something that pleases her fickle and curious whims, typically something horde-able: a pen case, a deck of cards, a cup, an old binder. But mainly she likes books, heavy books. (The actual content matter is irrelevant.) At some point, every dictionary, textbook, and anthology in our house has been received as a bedtime offering and squirreled away in some dark corner of her lair. (It's wreaked havoc on our bookcases. Good thing I now use online dictionaries or I'd have to sneak into her room every time I wanted to look up a word.)
Maybe she'll grow up to be the dictator of a corrupt banana republic:* "Her June-ness requests a gift, a simple gesture of goodwill..."
* Or mayor of New Orleans, our own corrupt little banana republic.