Dr. Crusher and her son were eating dinner together in their quarters.
"Are you okay, Wes?" Dr. Crusher. "You've been awfully quiet."
Wesley looked up from his salad. "Mom," he said, "the virus that broke out when we were orbiting Angel One last week wasn't my fault was it?"
"Of course not," she said. "Why would you think that?"
"Well," Wesley said sheepishly. "When we were on our field trip on the holodeck, I might have adjusted the controls manually to make the snow wetter. And if I hadn't hit the captain with a snowball -"
Dr. Crusher held up a hand. "Our two epidemiologists in sickbay are getting to the bottom of what caused the virus. And I assure you that it wouldn't have anything to do with you making the snow wetter in the holodeck." She got up from the table to hug Wesley on the other side.
"Well, let me know when they figure it out," Wesley said, relieved. "And don't dumb it down for me, either. I can understand it."
"Don't worry," his mother said, smiling, "I will."