Ten year old Johnny Deal was in big, big trouble! Kept after school, his mom had been called to Arlington's PS 666 to pick him up and talk to the principal. During the incredibly long trip home, his mom kept repeating "Wait 'til your father gets home...."
Johnny's dad, Congressman William "Shady" Deal, arrived home just before his son's 9:30 bedtime. Johnny could hear their hushed conversation in the living room, and when Dad finally strode into the den, where Johnny watched the last few minutes of "The Simpsons," the look on his face told Johnny that he was in every bit as much trouble as Mom said he was. Dad flipped off the set. Wearily plopping onto the couch next to his son, Bill Deal stared into space for a long time before speaking.
"OK. Your mom told me what the teacher said. Now I want to hear your version."
Johnny nervously glanced from the floor toward his father.
"Well...er...Dad, I was kept after school for talking in class and...well...the teacher's purse was sort of...er...just there...on her desk and all. And it was open. And when she went out of the room I sort of...uhh...just glanced into it and, Dad, there was this twenty dollar bill just sort of there...you know, on top and all...so I reached in and grabbed it."
Bill Deal listened impassively.
"When she came back into the room, she went right to the purse and noticed the money was gone. And when she asked me if I'd seen her money, I...uh....told...her..."
"Go on son. What did you tell her?", Deal asked.
Johnny took a deep, deep breath, then:
"ItoldherthatItookitandIwasreallysorryandIknewIshouldn'thaveandI'm sorryand..." The words rushed out in an unbroken torrent as the already high pitch of the young boy's voice went higher still. He began to cry and literally hurled himself at his father's chest. Bill Deal resignedly held his sobbing son until the trembling lad stopped shaking. Drying his tears with a handkerchief, Bill Deal slid the boy from his lap and, with the sternest face he could muster, he turned to face his red-eyed son.
Just outside the door to the den, Mrs. Deal, wiping her dishwater soaked hands on her housecoat, listened intently for the words of reproach and admonition she believed would soon be spoken by her husband.
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