Not Really Feline Those Flavors

(A chain ice-cream restaurant has recently opened up close to home. My five-year-old brother and I have always wanted to eat there because of the ice cream. Our parents don’t want to because the hot food they serve is frankly terrible. I am eight years old.)

Dad: “You don’t want to eat at [ice-cream restaurant].”

Brother: “Yes, we do!”

Dad: “Well, you know what they make the burgers out of, right?”

Me: “No…”

Dad: “What’s ice cream made of?”

Brother: “Milk?”

Dad: “That’s right! And cats really like milk, so they must really like ice cream.”

Me: “Yeah…”

Dad: “So, there should be a lot of cats hanging out in the parking lot, right?”

Brother: “Yeah…”

Dad: “Have you ever seen a cat in the parking lot [ice cream restaurant]?”

(My brother and I shake our heads in growing horror.)

Dad: “Why do you think that is? Well, let’s go out to dinner!”

Brother: “No! We don’t want to eat there anymore!”