The other day I took my son to a baseball-batting cage and paid for eight sets of 25 pitches. To our pleasant surprise, when the round finished, the balls kept coming—and coming. The machine had malfunctioned, and as a result it kept delivering an abundance of pitches. This reminded me of the time a friend’s 5-year-old daughter woke up and said, “Last night I had the best dream. I was at the beach and more toys than I could ever hope for washed up on the shore for me to have!”