Like clouds and wind without rain is a man who boasts of gifts he does not give (Proverbs 25:14).

"Maybe later."  It was a classic fatherly response that Sarah knew all too well.  What it meant was no trip to the park today.

"Well, how 'bout we go to the zoo, then?" Sarah said, trying a different approach.

"Not today, honey."  Her father's eyes flitted away from the computer screen for a moment.  He flashed a quick, warm smile at his daughter.  "But I'll tell you what, Tinkerbell..." Sarah perked up at the use of her special nickname and a sunbeam of attention from her busy father.  "After supper, maybe you and me and Mommy can walk down to Jerry's for some ice cream.  What would you think of a special treat like that?"

Sarah nodded vigorously.  If she would have been a puppy, she'd have wagged her tail and yipped with delight.  She did an impromptu cheerleader routine on the spot -- a cheer that she had, in fact, learned from her father:  "I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!"

The cheer earned a brief chuckle from Sarah's father, but then his face suddenly became serious again.  "That sounds like a good plan, then.  But for now, I need to get some stuff done here on the computer, OK?  Why don't you find some toys to play with or draw some pictures or something between now and suppertime?"  Scarcely had he finished his last sentence before he was absorbed in the glow of the computer screen again.

"OK, Daddy," said Sarah.  She trailed off toward her bedroom, the nagging sense of boredom again threatening to overwhelm her.  The ice cream idea gave her something to hope for, though.  She loved going to Jerry's, where she could pick out a blue razz slushie, or a hot-fudge sundae with nuts, or a double-thick chocolate malt.  She would sit at the picnic bench outside the walk-up window at Jerry's, together with her parents, and watch the sun set while making her way through the cool, creamy sweetness of whatever confectionary delight she fancied.  She'd listen to her mother and father talk about their jobs, or she'd tell them about something that had happened at school.  And then, after their bellies were full and their fingers were wiped clean of their stickiness, they would casually stroll back to the house in the magical glow of twilight.

Sarah kept thinking about the trip to Jerry's, even as she practiced some songs on her harmonica, brushed the hair of her My-Little-Ponies, and colored a picture of Kermit the Frog.  She was so deep in tought, in fact, that she was genuinely surprised when her mother leaned into the room, announcing that it was time to wash up for supper.

At the dinner table, Sarah ate quickly and then dutifully loaded her plate and fork into the dishwasher.  Her parents were still deep in conversation when she was done, with half of their food still on their plates, so Sarah offered to clear their plates for them.

"That's very sweet, honey," said Sarah's mother.  "But we're not finished yet.  Why don't you go play in your room until we're finished?"

Sarah briefly considered an argument, a complaint, a plea -- but then thought better of it.  These types of situations were never improved by such antics.  So she resigned herself to more time with her coloring book, her My-Little-Ponies, and her harmonica.  Every couple of minutes, she went to the door of her room to check on her parents and see if they were almost finished with their meal and conversation.  When it finally turned out that they were indeed finished, she skipped out of her room and up to the table, like an eager busboy working hard for tips.  She cleared her parents' places and loaded the dishwasher -- anxious to do anything that might speed up the trip to Jerry's.  Her parents raised impressed eyebrows at each other, and then Sarah's father leaned back in his chair and called out to his daughter.  "Thanks for all your hard work, Tinkerbell!"  He smiled broadly.  "Now, let's see if you can apply the same energy to getting ready for your bath!"

Sarah stopped and stared at her father.  "What?!?"  Panic crept into her voice, like a burglar coming through the window at night.  "I thought we were gonna go to Jerry's after supper!"

Sarah's father winced and looked at his wife.  "Oh, I completely forgot!  We had talked about going to Jerry's for a special treat after suppertime..."  The look on his face suggested that he was looking for his wife to bail him out of the awkward situation that he had just created, but she didn't take the bait.  "I'm sorry, Tinkerbell!  But it's too late now.  It's a school night, and we need to get you cleaned up and ready for bed."

Tears formed in Sarah's eyes, but she said nothing.

"Don't worry about it, little girl.  We can go again some other time."  Her father's face feigned brightness; his voice was obviously trying to put a positive spin on things.  "Maybe tomorrow..."