The Father, the Son, and Me I had nothing to do this afternoon, so while I was out on my afternoon walk, I thought I'd drop by my neighborhood pub. I'm friendly with the bartenders there, so I thought I might drop in for a pint, say hello, and see how everybody was doin'.
A father walked in with his young son, who was, at least by my estimation, no older than Kindergarten age.
The father ordered himself a shot of Bushmills and a Harp.
When the bartender came back with his shot and beer, the father got a Cranberry on the Rocks for his son.
"I thought the Bushmills was for him," I said to the father.
"Naw," the father said back to me. "When he's taller than the bar, he can drink at the bar. Til then, it's Cranberry juice."
"We're going to a shorter bar after this," he said with a smirk.
We clinked out beers. Cheers.
Moments later, I went outside for a cigarette. The father and son walked outside shortly after I lit up.
"Why do you smoke when you know it's bad?" the kid asked me.
"Well, sometimes the things that are really bad for you in some ways... they're really good for you in other ways."
The kid looked at his father.
"He's right," the father said as they walked away.
I don't know if it was the right thing to say. But it was the honest thing to say. And someday, when I have kids of my own -- in whatever fashion that may be -- I hope I gain the wisdom to know when to say the right thing and when to say the honest thing.