Tonight Kathy had to work. I picked up her and the kids about 4 pm to get the Toyota that had left Kathy stranded in the Big B parking lot the day before.

With Kathy safely off to work, I took the kids with me to get a haircut in time for my presentation to Tom Hidell. Trying to get a new job (or get the one I’m doing officialized.)

Danny was poking through dinner as usual, when his interest was peeked by Nicole and my discussion about dessert. Nicole asked if we still had some of the Valentine’s fudge in the refrigerator. No ice cream to put it on, I replied.

That’s when Danny suggested we eat fudge and bananas like he had done in school. (Kathy’s fudge had never solidified, so it was good for pouring on things.)

We decided to have a fondue with the bananas.

“The bananas have black holes in them,” Danny said with concern.

I looked and saw black spots, thinking he must be worried about them being too ripe. Funny he would call spots holes. “Looks like they’ll be just perfect,” I said.

So Danny hurried with his dinner, as Nicole and I got up to prepare the banana-fudge fondu. I peeled the banana and saw that it looked good, but noticed that there were a few black spots on the inside of the peel. Strange. On closer inspection, I found narrow holes in the banana that corresponded with the black spots. In fact, the holes were black! The banana was fine otherwise. Bugs? Bacteria?

Danny was eating faster and faster. I thought of the famous sliced-banana-in-a-peel trick that is done with a needle and thread.

“Danny, did you poke a toothpick in the banana?”

“Yes,” he confessed quietly, chewing as fast as possible.

Nicole found it difficult to contain her laughter. So did I.

Thinking that he would have no reason for this, I thought maybe he and Kathy had been doing some kind of educational experiment.

“Does Mom know you poked holes in the banana?”

“No,” he said, running out of food to hide behind.

Nicole lost it, and had to be sent from the room.

I thanked Danny for telling the truth. Then I asked him if he had a reason for poking holes in the banana, but he had none that he could recall. So I asked him not to poke holes in our food.

I sliced up the banana, heated up a small bowl of the Valentine’s fudge, broke out the toothpicks, and we had a terrific fondue. So good, in fact, that I sliced up a second banana, which had no black holes in it.