“What happened here?” I asked as calmly as I could. The stench from the still smoldering couch was awful.
"Toby, sneezed."
"Miles, who is Toby?"
My son smiled broadly and opened the shoe box he clutched. I couldn't believe it but inside the box was a fragile looking dragon hatchling. It put its cute front talons on the edge of the box.
"Where did you get that?"
"John's dragon laid a clutch. I hid the egg in my sock drawer and this morning he hatched."
I picked up the dragon, and lifted her tail. Yes, her tail. "Sweetie, it's a girl. And you aren't keeping it!"
"But ma! Toby imprinted on me. I'm her daddy!"
I sighed. There really was no separating them now. "Fine, but no desert for either of you for at least a week."
Miles put "Toby" on his shoulder. He trotted off as he whispered to her, "Don't worry, Daddy's a softie. He'll sneak us some pie."
For the hundredth time since Miles was born I wished it was the good old days when you could put your kid in a stockade on the front lawn without neighbors calling children's services.
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