You might think this child of 6 and 5/6th years doesn't have a single $119-Lego set, or even four, stacked in his room, unopened except for the precise little tear in the corner where small hands snuck out all the guys and left the parts to be assembled at some point, hopefully before another Christmas arrives.
You might also think he has not a single ball or bat or bubble machine or giant collection of half-used sidewalk chalk.
You might assume he is without a scooter, bike, two wagons, three one-bladed and one dual-bladed light saber and countless constructed out of cardboard wrapping paper tubes, pipe cleaners and a small prayer that the aluminum foil scraps will enable them to be conductors of the Force.
You very well could conjure up sympathy for this small boy, who seems to be without a small pool, a sandbox, a sprinkler and seventeen plastic trucks mere steps away from where he stands.
You may well think any and all of these things, looking at this picture of a kid who cannot let go of a red plastic dollar-store bucket. He wears it as a boot, he wears it as a hat. That's all it takes apparently -- $1.09 with tax -- to keep this kid happy and laughing hysterically for hours.
And when I'm torn at Christmas about whether to feel guilty or like the smartest lady in the world for wrapping those de-guy-ed Lego sets back up, remind me of this moment. Whisper to me that if I put a bucket instead of a bow on top of that stack of gifts, he'll be too busy dancing around with it affixed to his person to even notice all the Ewoks and Clone Troopers are long gone.