The little boy's blond hair so light nearly glowed in the sun,

His eyes were a deep blue, and he was no older than four.

He was standing in front of his mother, arms crossed on

Himself, his little lips in a pout, all while protesting his

Innocence to her.  She had shortly admonished him,

In the most irritated of tones, by saying: "Oh!  Behave!".

And the little boy's resolute response:  "I am being have!"

And the look on his face, I'll never forget:  injustice, incredulity.

The look on his mother's face:  I-better-not-burst-out-laughing.