The Question

The early afternoon sun is filtering in through the lone kitchen window. All four members of the family are seated around the kitchen island and eating their lunches. Conversation is sporadic – actually, constant – but interrupted frequently by the high-pitched voice of the almost-four-year-old girl.

MOM: ‘Shroom, I’ve noticed your snack bag was empty today. Did you eat everything at school?
BOY: [looking up from his sandwich] Yup.
MOM: You mean you drank your juice box and ate all the crackers?
BOY: Yes sir!
MOM: I am not a “sir.” Only men are sirs. Not women.
BOY: Yes sir.
[The man beside the boy snickers audibly]
MOM: [ignoring her husband's laugh] So, who helped you open your juice box?
BOY: Miss W helped me.
MOM: What? Miss W isn’t even in your class. What was she doing there today?
BOY: Oh – I mean Miss P.
MOM: Miss P doesn’t even go outside for snack time. Did you go inside for help? [getting slightly confused] Oh – did you open your juice box by yourself?
BOY: [smiling widely] Yeah.
MOM: Good for you—
BOY: Naa. I didn’t open it. Christian helped me. Yeah, he helped me open it.
MOM: So . . . Christian helped you with your drink box. [confusion is replaced with a bit of skepticism]
BOY: Haha! No, Christian didn’t help me. [the boy’s devilish grin exceeds the width of his face]
DAD: [at this point, he’s wondering why the inquisition] What difference does it make who opened the juice box?
MOM: I just want to know if 1) he was able to open his juice box by himself and 2) if he really did eat everything in his snack bag or just threw out everything.
DAD: Okay, ‘Shroom. What did you have in your snack bag today?
BOY: A juice box and goldfish crackers.
DAD: [turning to his wife for verification – and hopefully resolution] Is that true, Mommy?
MOM: Well, yeah but . . . [her voice trails off]
DAD: Well what?
MOM: I’m just asking a simple question of who opened his juice box. First he tells me it’s Miss W and then Miss P. He then says he opened it himself but no, it was really Christian – but not really. [confusion and skepticism have long been replaced by exasperation] How difficult is it to answer that question?
DAD: Well, at least he's more coherent in what he’s saying.
MOM: What do you mean coherent? He’s been speaking like this for a long time. Not answering a simple question with a direct response is nothing to brag about.
[The man sighs while exchanging knowing smiles with the young boy. The resemblance and mannerisms – not to mention the head shape – are identical.]
MOM: ‘Shroom, I’m just asking a simple question. I just want to know if you opened up your juice box by yourself or if someone helped you.
[The kitchen falls silent for a brief moment. Surprisingly the young girl has been quiet during this time. She, along with her parents, await the boy’s response.]
BOY: YES SIR!

The afternoon light fades on the family of four. The boy and his father laugh conspiratorially and the young girl resumes her chatter. The mother has given up trying to find out anything and as usual, keeps her thoughts to herself.