Who's the Coolest?

Last night after scripture time, prayer time, and Harry Potter time (not sure exactly how J.K. Rowling made her way into that lineup, but thus it is), the girls reminded Daddy to be sure to put the fan on in their room. 

For a family with no air conditioning, you’d think we would own more than one fan. But we don’t. We have just one, which makes it a hot ticket item. The girls’ mention of the fan immediately brought to the fore that Halen would not be equally graced with manufactured night breezes. 

So he screwed up his eyes and started crying.

“What’s the matter, buddy?” I asked wearily.

That was exactly the invitation my boy was waiting for, and he began to wail, “Why do the girls always get to be the coolest?”

“I’m sorry, Halen. There’s only one fan to go around, so only one room at a time can be the coolest.” 

You’d think that would have allayed my six-year-old’s concerns and dried up his tears, right? But no. The only thing that was going to make Halen feel better now was Mr. TwoFingers. And it was a good thing Joey had Mr. TwoFingers on hand; otherwise, Halen would have gone to bed as one untickled, unhappy, and unsatisfied little boy.