Bah, Humbug

“Daddy?” Frida said, looking up from her colouring book.

“Yes Frida?” Darren replied.

“What’s a humbug?”

“A what?”

“A humbug?”

“What do you mean?”

“In the Christmas story about Mr. Scrooge. He always says Bah Humbug, so is it some kind of sheep? Or something else?”

“Oh, I see. No, not a sheep. It’s a little insect that comes in to houses at Christmas time, and it lays its eggs in your head.”

“Oh, gross!”

“I know,” Darren said. “We try to keep them out, and usually do a good job, but once in a while a humbug gets in and makes people grouchy at Christmas time.”

“Oh. Is that what happened to Mr. Squire down the street?”

“Maybe. We can’t be sure, but it’s probably what happened.”

“Oh. Is there any cure?”

“There’s no known cure for a humbug, but you can try treat it with songs and kindness.”

“Okay, I’ll try to be nice to him even though he always yells at us when we’re out playing.”

“Good idea, sweetie.”

“Thanks Dad, you can go back to your book now.” Frida returned to her colouring.

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