He Scares Me, Part Deux

LK has decided to write the Great American Novel.

He's trying out several concepts simultaneously.  One is on my phone, another is on my hard drive, and I believe that a third story starter is stored in the cloud somewhere.  (How is it that my nine year-old is intimately familiar with Google Drive?  Two words:  Big.  Kid.  One more word:  osmosis.)

And now LK has an agent.

Mom, Camden and I are writing a book together.  Well, sort of - I'm doing the writing, and he weighs in with ideas and stuff.  You know, he makes suggestions, and he proofreads?

You are describing a literary agent.

Cool.  I didn't know what to call him.  Do you have an envelope?

Huh?

I wrote down some instructions for him, and I want to give them to him tomorrow, but I want to put them in an envelope.  You know, to make it more legit.

Got it.

I found an appropriately sized envelope.  And, yes, I snuck a peek.