Monday, Susan got rid of Banjo. Susan ran into someone with 100 acres of land, and now they have 100 acres of land with a dog on it. I was then informed that since Susan took care of offloading the pup, it was my job to inform Mason of the bad news.

So … on the ride home from work, I said, “Mason, I have to tell you something.” I didn’t know what to say after that. “Do you want some ice cream?” I said. “Yeah!” he said. So, we went to Braum’s.

Mason and I ordered a banana split just the way he wanted it — three scoops of chocolate ice cream, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, four cherries — and two spoons. “Wanna sit outside?” I asked as we walked outside toward the picnic tables.

I waited until Mason had a couple of bites in his belly before starting. “Banjo’s, uh … not a good dog for kids Mason.” Mason stopped eating and looked up at me. “He’s going to get to be too big and, uh, he needs a home that doesn’t have little kids and has plenty of space for him to run.”

“Uh huh,” Mason said.

“So, uh, today Mommy and I found another home for Banjo, and he’s gone to that home now,” I said.

Mason paused for a second, spoon in mid-air.

“Okay,” he said, and continued eating.

“Sooooo,” I said, “Banjo’s already gone.”

“Okay,” he said again, shovelling the now-chocolate soup both into his mouth and onto his chin.

“Sooooo,” I said again, “when we get home, Banjo won’t be there.”

Mason took another bite, looked me directly in the eyes and said, “it’s okay daddy. It doesn’t hurt my heart.”

And so, on an uncharacteristicly warm February day, the two of us sat outside and finished our chocolate on chocolate banana split.

That was easier than it should have been.