So my 4 year old asks how come the fridge light is always on. (and yet I preach that all unused lights should be switched off blah blah…) I tell him, it goes off when you close the fridge door. He asks how I know. I say, I just know. He asks how? Have I ever been inside the fidge with the door closed? Now, as a man, if you have a son, you know that’s a challenge, and cannot rest.

I look at him. He looks at me. Am thinking. He’s waiting. I hear Tink! I think he also hears tink. We’re alone, so this should be easy. In brief, we seem to agree that, as men of science, we must find out. We also agree that I am too big to fit in the fridge (am a poor man, it’s a small Nakumatt (local supermarket chain) fridge, they even packed it in a paper bag).

So chap chap operation before his mother comes, kijana ndani, we pack midget into fridge. Then silence. I plan to ask him if the light is on.

Then one of those universe moments strikes. I am standing alone in the kitchen, and for a split second, cannot recall why I am alone in the kitchen, and what am waiting for...

As fate would have it, Bald Pal (who always appears without calling, always invites you for a beer – not at the Kileleshwa police canteen where its sijui 70 bob. Always a fancy westie pub, and always the bill is mine) hoots at the gate, and off we go...

Anyway, let’s summarise the learnings here, before we incriminate ourselves:

1. 4 year olds are smarter than us (can manipulate you into killing them)
2. The midget, I don’t know how, came out, unhurt, but with a very clear memory
3. Because he has told everyone who cares to listen, in detail, how his Baba (yours truly) (I think) (I hope, I suspect) (Incidentally, now that we are on the subject, how much is a DNA test? A pal was asking…) put him in a fridge and he survived. (am waiting for the T-shirts)
4. Please don’t do this to anyone? (I mean, the Bald Pal thing. If you invite me for a Tusker, or Guinness, pay for it, them)