Ten-year-old Bob and six-year-old Cecil fidgeted impatiently as they sat in the shoe store. It seemed that they had been there for hours, waiting for the salesman to find shoes in their sizes. Bob looked over at his nanny and whined, "Anna, how much longer will this take?"
Anna sighed. "Robert, asking that question over and over again won't make this go any quicker. It's not my fault that your feet are growing so fast."
Bob gritted his teeth. "Watch it! Need I remind you that you're not our first nanny?"
"And what's that supposed to mean?" Little Cecil looked up in alarm at the raising voices, and only the return of the salesman prevented a potentially ugly scene.
"I had to make a few calls," he said, "but I've been able to order shoes in your size from a business that supplies costumes to circuses."
Bob's eye twitched as he realized what this meant. "You mean to say that you've ordered us CLOWN SHOES?!"
"Indoor voice, Robert!" Anna said sternly.
Bob suppressed a groan at being spoken to as if he were Cecil's age. "Sir, please, please tell me that you're being sarcastic."
"I'm afraid not," the salesman said impassively. Cecil clapped.
"I can be like Krusty!" he squealed.
Bob buried his face in his hands.