Little Eddy was three years old. He had come to a restaurant with his mother and two siblings and had been placed in a highchair at the table. When asked what he wanted, he said, “French fries!” He would consider nothing else.
A waiter brought the fries with a bottle of catsup and set them before him.
Little Eddy picked up the bottle, turned it over, and began vigorously shaking it. Nothing came out. “I can’t get any catsup for my French fries!” he cried.
“Well, shake it harder,” his mother snapped. She was tired and annoyed. She had been shopping all day with three little urchins in tow.
Eddy did as he was told, and the catsup came out, emptying the bottle. “I can’t see my French fries!” he cried.
His mother calmly reached into her purse and pulled out a miniature snorkel. “Go find them,” she said.
Copyright 2014 George Lowell Tollefson