I was just finishing getting ready in the morning when Noah came in and plopped on our bed. We chit-chatted a minute and then he said, "Mom, someday, when you're dead? Can I have this bed for me and my wife?"
"Sure Noah. I guess you like it?" (It's a four poster bed with the posts being very tall.)
"Yeah. I think it's really nice. It's big and I can hang my robe here where Dad hangs his," indicates Tim's robe hanging on one of the posts. "And my wife can hang hers there," indicating the post on "my" side of the bed.
"Or she could just put it in the closet like I do."
"She could hang it here."
"What if she's short like me? I can't really reach to hang my robe up there."
"Well she could stand on the bed like this," as he walks on the bed over to the post he's referencing.
"Well, I suppose she could, but I wouldn't want to walk on my bed, so I don't. I hang mine in the closet."
"It will be a really nice bed for us."
Now we know that Simon wants our house and Noah wants our bed.