Logic

Logic

“Dad, can I use your phone?” six-year-old Tim asked.

Still not considered old enough to have his own phone, they’d been teaching him since he was very young. First, music in the car, later cartoons for toddlers. Always short, or songs, all approved by parent groups. Older, they taught him how to actually use the phone in an emergency, just in case. A big step, but still, he was too young to have a phone of his own. At six he was allowed to “borrow” the phone occasionally to call his grandparents or Uncle Frank, but he always for a good reason.

“Why?” Dad asked.

“I’m going to call the police.”

“Why!?”

“Somebody stole my candy!”

“What candy?”

“The candy I hid in my sock drawer.”

“What makes you think it was stolen?”

“It was there yesterday, it’s gone.”

“Maybe you forgot you moved it?”

Tim looked at his father, “You know something don’t you?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you’re trying not to laugh.”

“Your mother found the candy and thought you didn’t like it and didn’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“Oh!”

“Don’t worry, I can fix it. I’ll tell her you thought it was peppermint. She knows you hate peppermint.”

“Will she give it back then?”

“Ah, no, she ate it, but she’ll probably buy you some more.”

“OK!” off Tim went.

“You told him I ate it?” a voice came from the hallway.

“I didn’t want him disappointed in me...”

“What about in me?”

“He would never be disappointed in you, you’re his mother!”

“Go by him some replacement candy.”

“No, you have to go.”

“Why?”

“Because I told him you would.”

“The logic is escaping me here.”

“There is none. I’m just a dad, grasping at straws.”

“Got it,” off she went.