Mr. Splainer lived in a quaint apartment on the eleventh floor of his building. He had many neighbors to whom he taught many things.
He considered himself a versatile educator. So much so, that hanging from his door was an engraved sign reading, “Bring me your questions, and I shall answer.”
If he didn’t know diddly-squat about a subject, what he’d do (and this is brilliant) is come up with something that may or may not have been misinformation. He assumed that since he was so knowledgeable, what he said had the highest likelihood of being correct.
The children in his building caught on quick (as children do) to his inability to admit that he didn’t know about a subject. They began making sinister plans to exploit it.
They chose the agent who would conduct this mission.
One early morning, seven-year-old Channing Jo Riley went straight up to Mr. Splainer’s door, knocked as hard as his tiny fists would allow, and upon seeing the old man’s sleepy face, asked, “Where do babies come from?”
Hey, everyone wants to know their origin story.
Now, Mr. Splainer was quite taken aback. He’d never even considered the possibility that he’d be asked a question he did not want to answer.
“Um,” he murmured, caught in quite a difficult predicament.
He looked at Channing Jo Riley, who was waiting rather impatiently for an answer.
“Well, are you gonna tell me or do you not know either Old Man Splainer?”
The old man shook his head, deciding for the first time that he was not the right person to answer this particular question.
With heavy heart, he removed the placard from his door. “Go ask your parents, Mr. Riley,” he said to the boy before turning around and going back to bed.