Mom had taken Amy on a “Girls Shopping Trip” leaving Tim at home with Dad for the afternoon. Finally, home from a romp around the park and some serious time on the playground, Dad felt they needed some quiet time to unwind.
“How about a story?”
“Sure! Tim said enthusiastically.
“How about Little Red Riding Hood?” Dad said.
“That’s my favorite story,” said Tim, excitedly.
“Or... what about Randal’s Dragon?”
“With the dragon! That’s my favorite story!” Tim said.
“Or, Three Little Pigs?”
“My favorite story!” said Tim.
“Is every story your favorite?” Dad asked Tim.
“I don’t know. What does ‘favorite’ mean?” Tim said.
“Why did you say that if you don’t know what favorite means?” Dad asked.
“Because I always hear that.”
“When do you hear that, I’ve never heard that.”
“When Mummy tells us about the day we were born.”
“Mummy tells you about the day you were born? When?”
“Sometimes when she’s putting us to bed.”
“How does that story go?”
“Amy knows it better than I do, but it always starts with ‘Once there was a Mummy and Daddy and they were waiting for their beautiful twins to be born.’ Then she tells us about you driving her to the hospital and how you left the suitcase on top of the car. Then how you got stopped by the policeman, and you couldn’t remember Mommy’s name. Then at the hospital when we started being born, how you threw up and fainted...”
“So this whole story is about me?”
“And that’s Amy’s favorite story?”
“No, Amy doesn’t say that! Mummy does!