45 Elephants

"So how much does this boat weigh?" he asked, his nose crinkled in anticipated concentration, his baseball cap backwards on his head, flattening his otherwise wild honey brown hair. J answered, "about 90,000 pounds." Max dropped his jaw in amazement, then turned away and stared out at the choppy whitecaps. Less than a minute later he turned around and announced, "That's about 180 elephants." The boat load of adults laughed. Our brains ached with mathmatic rustiness. "How did you figure that out?" "Well, each elephant weighs about one ton, and there are 2,000 pounds in a ton... Oh, wait! I mean 45 elephants. This boat is 45 elephants." He took the wheel in his small hands, mugging and smiling, standing on his tip toes to see over the steering column. "Why don't we have all the sails up? Can we put them up? I love heeling over! Have you seen Sinbad? It's a kids movie. Have you ever been a ship where the top sail is the royal?" Max stayed at the helm past the eight buoy, past the lighthouse, past the ferries ("Yippee! I get to take it past the ferries!") and past the yacht club before J took over. "You sure have a beautiful boat." The owner grinned like a seven year old himself, accepting a compliment from a genuinely thankful, albeit young, fellow sailor.