There once was a small boy named Marvin. Marvin had five fingers, but not all on the same hand — he had lost the other five, you see, and wasn’t ever sure just where he had misplaced them.

“Have you looked in your underwear drawer?” his mother asked.

Marvin had.

“Have you tried looking in the garage next to your brand new sled?” suggested Marvin’s father.

Marvin had.

“Did you think to look in the bathtub after you took your bath today, Marvin dear?” asked Grandma Josie.

Marvin had.

“Did you leave them at your friend Timmy’s house when you were playing this afternoon?” queried his older sister Babs.

Marvin nodded, dejected. He had looked everywhere. Alas, he could not find the other five fingers that he once possessed. Now he would have to make due through the rest of his life with only three fingers on his right hand, and a thumb and pinky on his left. This did not amuse Marvin in the least, for though he was only seven and three quarters, Marvin knew that when he grew up he wanted to be a computer engineer, and that generally required fully-functional hands.

But at least, Marvin thought to himself, I didn’t have my heart set on being a brain surgeon. If he had, though, he would have had plenty of time to get over it and plan on a new career.

Suddenly, as if to further the plot, Marvin stumbled on his socks in the upstairs hallway, and, being a reasonably tidy seven-and-three-quarter-year-old, he feebly picked up his dirty laundry to place them in the hamper, and what do you think fell out? Yes! Five brand new fingers that Santa had left Marvin for Christmas! Marvin had totally overlooked them that year in his enthusiasm over his brand new electron microscope, and had casually disregarded his socks. Marvin was very ever so much overjoyed.

It turned out to be a good Christmas for Marvin after all.

MORAL: Don’t take anything for granted, and watch where you put your fingers, buddy.