Rocco: We don’t have yesterdays. Yesterday just went and went and went and then it was gone.
Rocco: What happens to all the yesterdays?
Me: They turn into memories.
Rocco: Oh! Let’s have one now!
Me: A memory?
And so we sat there and remembered yesterday together.
(I tried to find a sweet, pensive picture of Rocco; this is the closest thing I could dig up.)