5-year-old Sherman Peabody looked up from his cereal. He and his father, Mr. Peabody were sitting at the dining room table eating breakfast and Mr. Peabody was reading the newspaper.

Sherman wanted to ask his father something, something he had been wondering for a while. But he was afraid to, given the nature of the question and how his father felt about himself being a dog. But Sherman didn't care that Mr. Peabody was dog, all he cared about was the fact that he knew he loved Mr. Peabody, and this might in some small way show that Mr. Peabody loved him too…

"Mr. Peabody?" he ventured.

Peabody looked up over the top of his newspaper. "Yes, Sherman?"

"Uhm, puppies are dog's children." he stated hesitantly.

"Yes, that is correct. Why do you feel the need to confirm your knowledge about my species juvenile name?" he said as he slowly lowered the newspaper to the table.

"Well, I'm your child….so…doesn't that make me your puppy?"

Mr. Peabody stared at Sherman for a few seconds before slowly breaking into a small smile.

"Yes, I suppose it does." he said as he started reading his newspaper again.

Sherman smiled and went back to eating his cereal.