Timmy and his family were eating at the dinner table when Timmy had a thought.
“Dad,” Timmy piped up, his brow furrowed in contemplation. “Are bugs good to eat?”
Mr. Smith nearly choked on his spoonful of soup, his face contorting into an expression of utter disgust.
“Timmy!” he exclaimed, shooting a stern glance at his son:
“That’s impolite. We don’t talk about things like that over dinner.”
Properly chastised, Timmy shrunk back in his chair, mumbling an apology.
The rest of the meal proceeded in relative silence, save for the occasional slurp or contented sigh.
As the family began clearing the table, Mr. Smith turned to his son, his features softened by paternal curiosity. “Now then, son, what did you want to ask me earlier?”
Timmy hesitated for a moment, before a mischievous grin spread across his freckled face as he replied
“Oh, nothing, Dad. There was a bug in your soup, but now it’s gone.”
