Yesterday morning I found a sweet lying around in Mummy and Daddy’s bedroom. I concluded it must have escaped from Daddy’s stash, looking for somebody nicer to be eaten by.
“Mummy, can I have this sweet?” I asked, yet without much hope; I could predict the answer.
“Not now – you haven’t had breakfast yet”, replies Mummy, right on cue.
“Then when can I have the sweet, Mummy”, I persist.
“Later, maybe”, she says.
“When later?”
“When I say so”
“But when, Mummy?”
“If you say ‘When, Mummy’ one more time, you won’t be having it all!”. Mummy thinks she’s had the last word.
So I let the matter rest. For, say, thirty seconds.
“At what moment may I have the sweet, Mummy?”
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