I went into the kitchen one afternoon to prepare dinner which was to be chili and rolls, rolls I had taken out of the freezer the day before. When I looked for them they were gone. I knew who had eaten them, all of them. And there he was sitting on the couch watching TV. “Philip,” I said with sternness in my voice “I can’t believe you ate all the rolls. They were supposed to be for dinner tonight.” He burst into unexpected tears and pointing at Clark said in a mimicking voice “Hello nosey boy. He, he said it. Clark said nosey boy. I don’t like it.” And with that loud exclamation he got off the couch and tried to leave the room. The rare tears were not for remorse for having eaten our dinner rolls but because Clark had called him a name, nosey boy. “Clark, tell Phil you are sorry. He does not like being called nosey boy.” Now it was Clark’s turn to display anger. “Clark,” I repeated “tell Phil you are sorry.” Clark sat there silent, sulking and muttering. “Clark! Tell Phil you are sorry! You are not eating dinner until you have apologized for calling him a name!” Finally the lame apology came and was lamely accepted by Philip who still showed absolutely no remorse for having eaten the dinner rolls. We had crackers instead.
Here is a note I received from Phil after the explosion. Interpreted it means--Mom, Clark called me a nosey (none) boy (boys) and then he signed it Phlip (even the bank accepts that spelling).