Lies and Pies

"Lies and pies, lies and pies Sonny." John, Sonny's father sing-songed to his small son after picking him up from school for their usual wednesday drive home. Sonny looked at his dad with round, questioning eyes. John looked down at him, smiled and then casually turned his focus to his driving. 

"What about the pies?" little Sonny ventured to ask after a while. 

John grinned without turning to look at his son and explained. "Pies are all sweet and warm and juicy good. They make your tongue happy-dance." Sonny's large blue eyes lit up.

"Yummy!" Sonny replied nodding vigorously with a dimpled, wide grin. 

"But lies," John continued to explain, "lies are dark and sour and make your mouth feel really bad; like you just ate a cactus." 

Sonny sat still in the front seat next to his father and stayed silent.

It started to rain and Sonny's dad turned the windshield wipers on. Sonny turned his head to the passenger side window to stare at the rain drops collecting there and remained thoughtfully quiet. For both of them the ride home from school this day seem much longer than usual. 

"I did hide the teacher's chalk." Sonny admitted very softly, directing his small voice toward the car's dashboard. 

His dad noticed the remorse in his son's smooth, innocent face. John reflected for the interval of a couple of wiper sweeps across the windshield. 

"Well," drawled John, breaking the silence, "I guess we don't have to get home right away. How about we stop for some nice, warm pie?"