After a particularly vigorous TickleFest 2000:

Jack’s Mom: “My butt hurts.”

Jack: “It should hurt. You’ve been sitting on it all day.”

Jack pulled out his piggy back a couple of days ago, said he wanted to go to the bank to count the coins.  But after counting them…

“Can we publish them into money?”

Publish, eh?

“Jack, they are money.”
“Oh. I mean cash.”