One afternoon our son and his sister returned from having played outside. Noting that Comet had spent most of the morning frolicking under the back porch, staining his white fur red with clay dust, our son had washed his hands and then emerged from the bathroom. His mother, Diane, stopped him as he walked by her and asked, “Did you wash your hands well enough?”
Our son reflected a moment. “Do you mean the ‘really dirty’ way?”
“Well," she answered, nodding her head solemnly. “The way we do when our hands are really dirty.”
“Do I have to?” our little Mr. Clean asked. She nodded her head again. He sighed, turned around and walked back into the bathroom. He turned on the water as he muttered to himself, “Man, what a waste of soap!”
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