…who, remember, isn’t yet three.
SETTING: The boy has just gotten up, and I’m getting him changed and dressed.
HIM: Daddy, are you a teacher?
ME: Yes.
HIM: Why?
ME: I have no idea.
HIM: But you’re a teacher?
ME: Yes.
(Several minutes pass; various early-morning toddler things happen. I ponder the chain of events leading up to that question; I have never said the words “Daddy is a teacher” to my son, and I’m not sure he knows what the word means. He decides he wants a chocolate graham cracker for breakfast, a request which is denied until other, more appropriately breakfasty foods are eaten.)
HIM: Chocolate graham cracker!
ME: No.
HIM: But I want chocolate graham cracker!
ME: No. You can have a chocolate graham cracker once you eat some cereal or a squeeze pack.
HIM: But I want chocolate graham cracker!
ME: Kenny, do you remember asking me if I was a teacher a few minutes ago?
HIM: Yes.
ME: This means that I am used to disappointing children who want things, and that I don’t care even a little bit when I do it anymore.
(He contemplates this for a moment.)
HIM: …I want raisins.
Exeunt.