What I’d Really Like, Dad, is to Borrow the Car Keys

My son walks into my room and says, “Dad, where are your car keys?”

Car keys

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“Gym,” he says, and starts to walk out of the room again.

“Wait a minute. Where are you going?”

“To the gym.”

“I got that, but you asked me a question and you’re walking out of the room before I answered it.”

“I thought you could give me the answer as I was walking away.”

“Well, I can’t because the keys are in my pocket.”

“Oh,” he says.

“See, that’s what threw me off,” I say, “is I’ve got the keys right here and you’re walking in the other direction.”

“I don’t have time to stand around,” he says.

“You don’t? Well, I don’t have time to figure out other people’s mystifying behavior.”

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