Good boy

So today I had to take Myles to the doctor (he has his first sinus infection--what do I bronze for that?). I told him on the way there I would take him for a hot dog if he was a good boy. Not too long ago, this wouldn't have been a reward. He hated hot dogs; he preferred London Broil. He now likes hot dogs, which is a good thing since people like to feed hot dogs to kids when they come to visit and I REALLY do not need Myles to demand Steak au Poivre instead.
He was a good boy and we indeed went for a hot dog. Okay, it was a vegetarian hot dog at the Vegan kosher coffee shop, but it was a hot dog. And he also got a brownie.
After lunch, Myles reminded me that he was a good boy at the doctor's office. I agreed, reminding him that was why he got a hot dog. Then he said he was a good boy in church. I agreed, reminding him that was why he got a cookie on Sunday. Then he said he was a good boy in the car. I agreed. I didn't have anything to give him but my thanks. Then he said he was a good boy in the house. All I could say to that was, "Yes, honey. I love it when you are a good boy in the house."