"Daddy, how much do you make an hour?" With a timid voice and idolizing eyes, the little boy greeted his father as he returned from work.
Greatly surprised, but giving his boy a glaring look, the father said, "Look, sonny, not even your mother knows that. Don't bother me now. I'm tired."
"But, Daddy, just tell me please! How much do you make an hour?" the boy insisted.
The father, finally giving up, replied, "Twenty dollars per hour."
"Okay, Daddy. Could you loan me ten dollars?" the boy asked. Showing his restlessness and positively disturbed, the father yelled, "So that was the reason you asked how much I earn, right? Go to sleep and don't bother me anymore!"
It was already dark and the father was meditating on what he said and was feeling guilty. Maybe, he thought, his son wanted to buy something.
Finally, trying to ease his mind, the father went to his son's room. "Are you asleep, son?" asked the father.
"No, Daddy ... why?" replied the boy, partially asleep.
"Here's the money you asked for earlier," the father said.
"Thanks, Daddy!" rejoiced the son. He put his hand under his pillow and removed some money. "Now I have enough! Now I have twenty dollars!" the boy said.
The father was gazing at his son, confused at what his son had just said.
"Daddy, could you sell me one hour of your time?"