I had always been an honest man. One whom everybody was pleased with at the end of the day. Sometimes these pleased people would even give me gifts to show their appreciation. Gifts such as the one I'd just received.
In my hands, I held a small box of Chocolate Covered Cookies. A tiny box, one just big enough to contain enough cookies for ten children. My children.
They were good children, my children, and they deserved a little more than just one cold meal a day. Meals that consisted of little more than Rice and Beans, sometimes even potatoes, if we were lucky. But I didn't have the money to give them much more than they already had, which was why, gifts like the little box of cookies I now held, meant so much to me. And them.
I could give each one of them one cookie. They'd be happy, surprised even. They didn't get treats often. In fact, I couldn't even remember the last time we'd had such a treat.
I arrived home shortly, box of cookies in hand. I proudly set them on the counter, before going upstairs to wash.
And as I washed my hands, I imagined each of the smiling faces of my children as they each ate their cookie. Biting into the tasty circle with smiles of delight; I didn't even think my youngest had ever had a cookie before. Oh, what a treat this would be.
I came down the stairs, slowly, drying my hands as I went. Turning towards the kitchen, I spotted the counter that the cookies were on.
Or what they were supposed to be on.
I turned, confused. I had sat them here, had I not?
I checked the kitchen table, then the pantry, and then the other counter.
No cookies were to be found.
I assembled all my children in the kitchen, every one of them, and demanded who took my cookies.
Nobody but my youngest child.
He confessed, in tears, as he admitted to taking the cookies. He produced the empty box, and I frowned at him. Everyone of my children were now looking at that box, the box of empty chocolate covered cookies, with sad and very disappointed faces. There were no more cookies to be had. Not even one left to split. The box was empty, and not even a crumb remained.
I took my youngest child by the hand, and led him to the hall. Then, I did what every good father should do; I whipped him.
He never stole my cookies again.