Foggy finances

Thinking back to a December memory which is about nearly a quarter of a century old:

In those days, I caught a lift to the Unitarian Church every Sunday, sometimes accompanied by elder daughter.

I don't know how the subject came up but I was telling my lift about about flying to San Francisco in my pre-child days, and my growing terror when the plane took an eternity to rise through a bank of clouds.

Elder daughter, then four, listened gravely from the back seat, and announced: "My cloud-people get cloud-money.  They get it from the cloud-bank."