Before Clark started kindergarten, Jonathan and Martha hadn't taken him out of the house very often, except to go out into the barn and the fields. But once he had been in school for a little while, they started making a point of taking him into public places more: grocery stores, shopping malls, restaurants. And once, when he was a couple of months from turning six, they scraped up some extra money and took him to a movie theater.

Marsha paid for the tickets while Jonathan picked up some popcorn from the concession stand. Clark ran his fingers along the rows of candy bars with wide eyes. Jonathan wanted this night to be as fun and memorable as possible for his son, but he grimaced at the prices of the candy—it was over four times what it would cost in a grocery store. "Not tonight, little guy," he said, squeezing Clark's shoulder, then he turned his attention back to the cashier, paying for the popcorn.

They were filing into their seats when Jonathan looked down and noticed that Clark had a bag of M&M's in his hand.

"Where did you get those?" He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but just in case Martha had bought something that he didn't know about, he didn't want to start with an accusation.

"I used my powers," Clark said with a wide smile.

Jonathan felt anger boiling in his veins. Stealing was a new one. "Didn't I tell you we weren't having candy tonight?"

"Yeah, but that was just because we don't have money right now."

Jonathan held back a groan. They would have to be more careful about discussing their finances when he was in the next room; the little guy's hearing was better than he had realized. Jonathan breathed in to begin scolding, maybe to announce that they were all going home, when Martha reached across Clark and gently touched Jonathan's shoulder. "Can I talk to you?"

She stepped across to sit on the other side of him and whispered into his ear, "He probably doesn't know that he did anything wrong."

"He should know," Jonathan growled. "My son is not going to be a thief."

"We've never had to talk to him about stealing before," Martha said.

"By the time I was five—"

"That's different. You'd had years of experience in the real world by then. This is all new for Clark."

Jonathan silently counted backwards from ten in his head. "I'll be gentle," he finally said.

Martha nodded, and Jonathan took Clark's hand and walked him out of the theater into the hallway, finding a relatively empty corner to speak with hadn't even opened the bag of M&M's yet; his father's reaction seemed to have startled him.

"Son," Jonathan started, doing his best to remain calm and patient, "why did you take the candy?"

"I just used my speed," Clark said. "Nobody saw me."

Everything in Jonathan wanted to start yelling, but Martha was right. He had no guilty conscience. He really didn't even know it was wrong. "When you take something without paying for it, that's called stealing. And stealing is wrong."

Clark's lower lip stuck out. "Why?"

"Because you're taking something that doesn't belong to you. It belongs to someone else. How would you feel if Pete or Lana came over to your house and took your toys?"

"They wouldn't take my toys. They're not mean."

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"So why was it okay for you to take the candy?"

Clark's eyes widened. "Oh!"

"Son, I know you didn't mean to do anything wrong, but we need to return the candy. And I never want to hear about you stealing again."

His eyes became teary. "I'm sorry, Daddy."

Jonathan held out his hand for the candy, and Clark handed it over, wiping his eyes.

They waited in the concession line again, and when they reached the front, Clark told the cashier what he had done. He looked sufficiently remorseful, but he managed to get the words out without crying. Jonathan was thankful for that; the last thing he wanted was for the night to be completely ruined. The cashier looked like she was used to this and didn't pile on any extra guilt.

Once they got back into the theater, Clark spirits seem to lift. They arrived as the last preview was ending, and the lights were dimming, and he all but skipped to his seat, bouncing on his chair when the movie started. He laughed too loudly at the funny parts, he smiled so wide it almost made Jonathan's cheeks hurt to look at, and he seemed so excited throughout the whole thing that Jonathan was worried that they'd never get him to settle down when they took him home. But halfway through the movie, he had fallen asleep with his head on his mother's lap.

He woke up just enough during the credits to walk out to the car with his parents, and even though he was yawning and rubbing his eyes, there was a little dreamy smile on his face, and he was still nibbling away at the few bits of popcorn he had left—Jonathan would have to remind Martha to double-check his pockets for them before doing laundry.

Jonathan hadn't wanted to spend the extra money to park in the garage beside the theater, so it was a bit of a walk back to the car. They were about a block away when a dark figure approached them, Martha screamed, and the figure disappeared into the night.

Jonathan took her arm. "Baby, are you all right?"

"He took my purse!"

Jonathan's heart sank. It had been such a good night. "What did you have with you?"

Her eyes widened. "Everything we made from the farmers market this weekend."

"Oh, no." That was hundreds. They were already behind on bills. "Should I try to go after him?"

"I—I'm sure he's long gone," Martha said, her voice cracking a little. "I'm so sorry, I was going to try to get to the bank, but I wanted to make sure we all got to eat before we went to the theater, and—"

"This isn't your fault, sweetie, it happens, but . . ." Jonathan looked down to check on Clark and make sure he was okay.

He was gone.

Martha's jaw dropped. "Jonathan?" She glanced around them, beginning to pace. "Clark? Clark!"

Jonathan didn't think twice. He ran in the direction the robber had gone. He knew how his son thought. If the kid had caught anything that was going on, he might have tried to go after the man.

Jonathan couldn't outrun his son, but the burglar wouldn't have gotten far if Clark had caught up to him.

It didn't take long. He could hear scuffling coming from down an alleyway, and he raced in.

The masked burglar stood with his back against the wall, hunched over and wincing, massaging his shin with his hand. Clark stood in front of him, pointing a finger, his face red with rage.

"Stealing is taking something that doesn't belong to you!"

"Okay, kid, jeez, just take it easy—"

"How would you feel if I came over to your house and took your stuff?"

"Here, take it, are you happy?" The man gave the purse to Clark.

Clark's snatched up the purse. his eyes were still narrowed. "Stealing isn't nice." He coiled his leg back for a kick.

Jonathan found his voice all at once. "Clark! That's enough!"

Clark jumped back suddenly. He looked up at his father and said, "Dad?"

"Let's go." Jonathan glared at the burglar, but he didn't say anything, just held out a hand for his son's.

Jonathan wasn't even sure what to say as they walked back to the car. A part of him was bursting with pride at hearing his own words repeated; a bigger part was relieved to have the stolen item returned; a much bigger part was still terrified at the thought of the situation his son had just put himself in. He could have been hurt; he could have exposed his secret; he could have gotten lost.

He scooped up his son into his arms and continued their trek.

Martha's eyes word teary when they returned. "baby!" she cried, holding her arms out, and Jonathan went to hand over Clark to her, but she took both of them into her arms. "Don't you ever scare me like that again, either of you!"

"Mommy, I got your purse back."

Marshall let go of Jonathan, but she took Clark into her arms when they separated. "I don't care about the purse! It can be replaced. You can't, sweetheart."

"But that guy stole from you! That was wrong!"

"I know, but I never want you to run away from me again. That's worse than losing a little bit of money. Or even a lot of money."

"Okay," Clark said, and he rested his head on her shoulder.

Jonathan swallowed hard. If Clark continued to grow in strength and speed, and if his instincts for justice grew in equal measure, Jonathan had a feeling that this was only the beginning.