Clara came back from the garage and told me that she couldn’t find what I had sent her to bring back for me.

“Did you look on the shelf?” I asked.

“Sort of,” she said. “Not really, I guess.”

“What do you mean, ‘Not really’? You were in there for like five minutes and you didn’t look on the shelf where we keep them?”

“No. You see…” she explained. “I accidentally flipped the wrong switch inside the door and it turned the lights out. So, I had to feel my way across the garage in the dark. And then when I got to the shelf… At least I think it was the shelf… I felt around on it for a while and I never found anything. So, THEN I had to bump my way back across the room.” She closed her eyes and mimicked shimming along the garage floor, wiggling her fingers out in front of her. “I couldn’t see ANYTHING.”

I stared at her, very tired, very confused, and sighed.

“Clara,” I rested a hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “Clara, why didn’t you just turn the light back on?”

She squinted her eyes at me for several seconds, as if I were an idiot and she was trying to figure out the best way to explain a very complicated concept to me.

“How would I have found the right switch? It was completely black, Dad.”

I nodded, slowly stood up, and walked towards the garage to check the shelf for myself.