Originally, to ease him into the process, his parents made sure to "snack up" their stroller-bound junior scout and turn their outings into a game: The first one to see a particular cartoon character at the stalls got kettle corn. But soon enough, there was no need for such incentives. At the age of 4, Atticus spied a purple pool ball with the number eight on it at the Alameda Antique Fair, just south of San Francisco, then haggled with the vendor before buying it for a quarter. Now he likes to push his luck with old Tonka trucks—often priced in the thousands—by trying to get sellers down to a couple of dollars. "It's cute for us to watch, but probably frustrating as all get-out for the vendors," his father says.
Through these routine excursions, Atticus has learned that even though a toy may look boring and rusty, age and rarity can make it costly. But playtime is not old school all the time—Atticus is by no means opposed to modern toys. "When you have a kid, you wouldn't want him to play with die-cast cars all the time," says Dave. "We've peppered our home with new things—partially because we have to, and partially because he's a kid. I mean, he needs to know what Pokémon is in order to talk to his friends." The difference is that Atticus is often more careful than most 6-year-olds, because he realizes some of these items might be worth something in the future. For instance, instead of casually rubber-banding his Yu-Gi-Oh! trading cards as his classmates do, he keeps his collection protected in plastic sleeves and binders.
Atticus is savvy enough to see the value of items outside his toybox as well—he grew so attached to his parents' collection of landscape paintings that he appropriated the lot of them for his bedroom. (For a time, he would say good night to each painting, one at a time, and sometimes even pretend they were windows.) On many evenings, instead of flipping on the television that sits in a wardrobe closet—a French 1880s–era piece that as a baby he liked to crawl up to and drool on—Atticus opts for music from the gramophone in the corner of the parlor. He is equally attuned to the furniture he finds in other people's homes. Once, during a playdate at a friend's house, the friend began jumping around on the couch. Before climbing up on it himself, a concerned Atticus turned to his own father and asked, "Is their couch an antique?"
Despite the obvious benefits of all this historical exposure at such a young age, the Sopps sometimes wonder whether it will lead to a style rebellion when Atticus grows up. "Wouldn't it be funny if, later in life, he had a Barcalounger and shag carpeting?" Dave says. "You know it's going to happen."
