Tag: Fathering

Am I going bald?

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Oh mirror mirror on the wall who is the baldest one of them all????  Hah! Not me! For I have a full head of hair! Oh yes I do!  A full head of flowing Norwegian blonde hair, the kind of hair that Fabio himself would adorn.  When I comb it in the morning birds tweet outside my window in approval.  As I head off to work, my wife runs her hands through shimmering locks with a heavy sigh of contentment.  The door opens to the world outside and the winds die down out of respect for my feathered mane.  To see me is to love me for as I shake my head side to side, men stare in awe at the unbelievable attraction that is my hair and they want to be me! 

Ok are we done vomiting now? Wrech, blech, huuuaaaahhh!  My little trip down “full of myself” lane was fun but here are the facts.  I am 45 years old and my hair is thinning slightly.  It is doing this in an area I prefer to call the forward cul-de-sac.  You know the space right above your brow line traveling back about even with the front middle of your head but not quite far enough back to be your cow-lick.  It thins in a pattern that resembles a cul-de-sac on any city street.  When you gaze through the thin layering of hair, you can almost envision the new neighborhood being built, right there on you head!

We all know people afflicted with this horrible sign of aging.  They run around trying their best to cover it up.  Baseball caps suddenly are worn by people who never really liked baseball caps.  Hair is grown longer on one side of the head to produce the perfect “comb-over”, where the longer hair is literally combed over the bald spot. The part line has now moved from a respectful 2 degrees south of the mid cranial line to a full-blown 90 degrees south hovering right above the top of the ear! There of course are those that embrace the cul-de-sac look and wear it quite nicely, but in my opinion you had better have a pretty stellar shaped head to pull that off otherwise you end up looking as though you are wearing mink earmuffs all year-long! Then there is the Bruce Willis, Vin Deisel, Samuel L Jackson group that have just said screw it and gone completely bald! They look good, no they look GREAT! They pull it off, oh yes! But even if they didn’t I sure as hell wouldn’t tell them otherwise!  They would kick my butt!  

So how did I get to this point.  I have two brothers who have full heads of hair, and in reality I still have a full head of hair.  When I gel my hair, or it is wet that’s when you really see the outline of the cul-de-sac starting to show.  Its like purchasing land on an Alabama lake front, (that’s another story) you know there is land under that vegetation, but until you start pulling out the trees and shrubs one by one you never really get a good view of the property line!  Nice visual huh? Now I know this whole “thinning hair” thing doesn’t seem like a big problem at all, but it’s getting worse and I just want to know why?  Why me?  Why is my hair going away?

 As I am left grinding my teeth pondering the issue, it hits me.  It’s the kids fault! Shazam! It’s the damn kids fault!  BA-DOW! Thats it! When I was young, unmarried and spry, I was a handsome devil, with no cares in the world.  My biggest decision was choosing the bar where I was meeting my buddies that night and of course when my next paycheck would arrive.  Life was good.  I owned stock in macaroni and cheese, and my fridge held a gallon of milk, plenty of beer, lunch meat and hot dogs.  The hot dogs were for Sunday night dinner when I would dress up the mac n cheese!  I had no stress, I also had LOTS of hair!  I looked like Andi Freaking Gibb! (sorry my generation, my timeframe).  Then came marriage!  Marriage was good-no marriage was great!  Just me and my lady, hanging out, watching TV, eating real food because mac n cheese was for bachelors and children!  Yeah it was soo nice….  Then came children, it starts out so exciting and wonderful, you can’t believe the little miracle the two of you have created!  He is laying there all wrapped up and cute and snuggly and cute and look oh he made a sound, ahhhhhh he’s sooooo cute…  And then the kid doesn’t sleep for six freaking months straight, which means you also don’t sleep for 6 months straight! Cue crankiness!! Then there’s making sure he is safely in his stroller, and car seat and high chair which sits in a kitchen that has cabinets locked tighter than Fort Knox!  He starts walking then running then riding a bike, then riding a dirt bike, then riding horses and hunting and driving, and dating and going on overnight trips with his friends and before you know it!  HAIR IS FALLING FROM YOUR STRESSED OUT LITTLE HEAD LIKE SNOW IN THE HIMALAYAS!

I mean SERIOULSY over the last two years I have just been getting thinner and thinner, and I don’t want to be “that guy”!  You know, the guy who everyone talks about after he leaves the room!  Hey dude did you see his head?  Holy cow man talk about a receding hairline, it’s not receding that thing is in full retreat!!  Why does he even bother to put gel in his hair?  I don’t know, but someone needs to tell him?  Or worse yet I end up shaving it all off then I’ll be “that guy” again.  Ho hoo, yeah that’s right I’m bald!  Oh yeah baby its a solar panel for a love machine!  Whoa buddy just rub it for luck, hey baby that’s right the carpet really does match the drapes!!  YYYUUUUCCCCCKKKKK!!!!

That can’t happen I wont let it, I hated it when my dad was spewing those oh so witty remarks!  It was just plain embarrassing!  No No I will take it like a man, I have too.  Yes, yes professionalism and maturity all the way!  If I am going to lose my hair I am going out dignified!  No Rogaine, No hair club for men, No scalp treatments, No baseball caps or wigs and definitely NO weaves!  I’ll shave it off like a man and wear that jet white scalp like a terrified buck private at boot camp!  That is it! Yes sir only two third degree sunburns and few skin peels and I’ll have that thing shining like a new penny!  Yep that’s the ticket! Three more kids to raise another handful of hair to lose!  Ahhhh its good to come to terms with this issue.  Love your kids, lose your hair, I think it might just be a fair trade-off..

Now, what the heck am I going to do about the grey?????

Today I became my father!

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When I was a kid I could be a bit of a handful, I was strong-willed and absolutely hated being told what to do! I can vividly remember as a kid, my father slowly becoming frustrated with me over my attitude. After awhile he would eventually let slip from his mouth; I hope you have ten kids and they are all just like you!  To which I would reply; me too, because I think I am pretty cool!   My dad would mumble something under his breath, chuckle to himself and the issue would be dropped.

Then there were times that he and I butted heads so badly that inevitably I ended up in my room for the evening with a good solid smack on the butt and the threat of the belt if I so much as peeked out of my room.  This was soundly followed up with him bellowing; do it! Open that door and see what happens!  It was as if he was taunting me, calling me chicken in front of my friends, to which my inner Marty McFly would start twitching and shaking because I didn’t care who you were, NO ONE CALLS ME CHICKEN!  Of course sometime being a chickens not so bad.  But I never figured that out, I was always the one who pushed things to the very furthest limit I could.  In some ways I am still that way today.  If given the chance I can argue making you believe that your point was really my point and my point was really your point, and just for fun I might even argue both points to such a degree that you have no idea what ground you really stand on.

Anyways I would sit my room, smoke rising from my head angry at the world!  I really never why I would become so mad, or why I never let things go after being sent to my room.  But what I did know was I was never ever going to be like my father!  I went to sleep many nights thinking to myself; If I ever have kids I am never going to be like you dad!  No how, no way!  My kids are going to be free to express themselves and they will get to stay up all night long if they want! Yep! My kids can have ice cream when ever they feel like it and if they wish to have hot lunch at school everyday well that will be ok with me!  I would lay there on my bed listening to my AC/DC Back in Black album.  (Album:A collection of recordings on a long-playing record.  a record is a large disk made of vinyl played on a record player. a record player is; oh hell look it up if you can’t remember) Wondering what will my kids be like?  Will they be cool like me or will they be a pain in the butt like my dad?  I hope he is right, I really do hope my kids are just like me, I’ll show him a thing or two.  They are going to think I am the greatest dad that has ever lived!  M&M’s for everyone!!!

Putting the kids to bed tonight my youngest starts an argument over whether or not he can go upstairs to take a shower by himself.  After resolving that issue, my daughter wants to argue over whether or not she actually used conditioner in her hair this evening.  For some reason unbeknownst to he mother and I she seems to have an affliction to the stuff.  preferring to have her hair ripped out with each pull of a brush or comb after a shower.  Yet the argument continues.  Then to round out the evening or the trifecta as I prefer to call it, the middle one is pissed because its his bedtime and he can’t watch a movie with his older brother.  When asked to go off to bed the attitude starts, then rudeness to his mother which is followed with a complete round of ignoring anything asked of him.  I walk into the room to confront my demon spawn only to be greeted with complete disrespect.  As he rolls his eyes at me and states with an emphatic “what”, he is promptly taken aside, his disrespectful actions are calmly explained to him and he is told to go to his room. He complies…. There you see I am the better man.  Calm, cool no action needed, I got this, I am so much better at this than my dad ever was, oh yeah, superdad……

I turn around after several rounds of gratuitous back patting to find he has made his way past me and is leaning against the wall watching the TV!  My head hurts, I am dizzy, feeling a little anxious and nauseous all at the same time.  Four kids, four issues, the arguing, I just want them all in bed, with peace and quiet, is that too much to ask.  Some respect would be nice too!  I feel it like a demon welling up from beneath, growling and tearing at my insides.  I wonder if this is how David Banner feels moments before he emerges as the Incredible Hulk!  And before I can catch myself a bellowing; GET YOUR BUTT IN BED RIGHT NOW! Comes out like an explosion of horrific magnitude!  My son turns on his heels and runs for the stairs, I am behind him moving like a cop chasing a suspect.  I am mumbling something that no one can understand! The boy makes it up the stairs and as he hits the landing I let him know: that butt better be in bed because if you get out of bed that butt is mine! I chuckle. I hear his bedroom door shut and as I stroll past my wife I let out a curt; I hope he has ten kids and they are all just like him! 

It is at that very moment I hear myself for the first time.  I shiver at what has just happened, I am in shock, disbelief, denial.  I am astounded at how easy it has happened.  I was so sure this would, no, could never happen.  I swore I would never let it happen and yet here I am.  Oh man……  Today I became my father…..

I may need some counseling.

 

Is a dog mans best friend?

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A dog is mans best friend.  How many times have you heard this phrase?  “A dog is mans best friend”. Its sounds like a viable statement doesn’t it?  A dog is mans best friend?  See I have heard this all my life.  My mom raised AKC (American Kennel Club for those not in the know) dogs for profit, when I was a kid, and you always heard that statement flying around.  A dog is mans best friend???  HHHMMMM? I know it must be true because when my friends come back from duck hunting they’re always touting the excellent agility, loyalty and just plain olympic caliber performances that each of their dogs has displayed.  And yet it still doesn’t set with me.  Are those things what really makes a dog your best friend?

My son asked me the other day; why is a dog mans best friend? Why not a cat? I stumbled on the question for a minute, while reflecting on the many dogs I have cared for in my life. While recognizing I did not have one friend that had a cat as their “best friend”.  I thought of the loyalty, and the love shown by those animals, I thought about how after time they became like a member of the family.  And like a member of the family, lets say oh the uncle no one want to see or the great-aunt with bad breath that no one wants to smooch at the family reunion.  There are a few dogs who have graced my life that I just don’t miss at all!  So I take a good hard swallow looked my boy right in his steely little eyes and pulled this little gem of half whitted wisdom out for him to hear!

Son, I don’t believe a dog is mans best friend, on the contrary, I believe it’s a boys best friend.  (I know you are scratching your head right now and spouting; WHAT YOU TALIKING BOUT’ WILLIS!  As he raised one Vulcan eyebrow to comprehend this masterpiece of wisdom I continued on before he stripped a gear thinking about it.

Son its like this, when you are a young lad all you think about besides candy, hot wheels and ice cream is getting a dog.  He nodded his head in approval.  I continued; There are not to many boys in this world that have not begged for a dog at least once in their adolescent existence.  Boys across this country have sat in their room and daydreamed about the dog they would own.  A dog that would be their very best friend and go everywhere with them, protecting them from all the evil in the world.  Hunting with them across the undiscovered countryside of the early west, trapping beaver and chasing squirrels.  Knocking down buffalo and traveling on safari together you and your dog would be an inseparable pair.

Some boys actually live the dream as many parents cave into the begging, crying and whining.  The dog is usually a present, based on Hallmark holidays arriving with a bow and a sack of dog food.  For the lucky young lad a new life emerges.  One of countless hours of training, playing and poop pick up.  Shouts of joy from success, and tears of anguish when failure rears its ugly head.  But at the end of the turmoil a young lad now has a new best friend.  If he is lucky the dog is allowed to go with him everywhere, sleep on or in his bed and lay on his lap while watching tv.  They become two peas in a pod.  The adventures are not quite what was dreamed about, but through the magic of imagination they are darn close.  The dog is there when the boy has a horrible day to secretly cry on (remember in testosterone filled mythology boys don’t cry) and the dog is there to talk too when things aren’t going so well.  No girl is ever allowed to touch said dog, and a paw to hand pact is made that a woman will never come between them.  The dog is always happy to see him when he gets home, and equally as sad when he leaves for school in the morning. The best thing is both boy and dog think “farting” is the funniest thing in the world!

There you are, all the proof I need! I say verily that yes, the dog truly is the “boys” best friend!

Now don’t get me wrong, there are many men out there with dogs.  These animals are loved and cared for and are truly part of the family.  But its a different bond. You see in the eyes of the boy, the dog is everything! In the eyes of a man, the dog is part of a much bigger picture. The family.  So that’s my justification for why dogs are a boys best friend.

Just for the record, this all came about, because my oldest son finally went and purchased his very first dog.  It’s a hunting dog, a German short hair. According to my son its cute and funny and really smart.  She retrieves really well and is very happy to be with him. The dog came home today and we will slowly be inducting her into our family.  See, spoken like a true man…. Sit ubu sit…

I dont want to share my room anymore!!

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I don’t want to share a room anymore! I want my own room, and I don’t want to share a room with anybody! My brother makes all the big messes and then I am stuck cleaning them up! He never does anything but play, make a mess, play, make a mess and play some more! I am tired of being blamed for all his messes! I really want my own room! (dreaded deep tone) I don’t even like him! He can find his own room!

So goes the repeated mantra of my seven-year old……

My seven-year old acts this way whenever there is work to do. Especially when it comes to cleaning his room! I have noticed that a few of his little friends carry the same attitude! A few of them act as though they have “Only Child Syndrome” you remember OCS don’t you? You could pick OCS sufferers a mile away, they were always dressed in the latest designer clothes, they always had the newest school supplies, when they reached high school they always recieved new cars on their 16th birthdays! (Ok before some of you lone children get your panties in an uproar. I have plenty of friends who are the product of being an “only child” and they are some of the finest examples of human beings I have the pleasure to know. I am referencing the other half. You know what I am taking about too. Dont act like you don’t. Read on if you are unsure) They threw temper tantrums when they didn’t get what they wanted and heaven help you if you stood in their way or picked on one! The OCS sufferer would cry all the way home to mommy, who would then have daddy come knock on your door presumably to straighten things out and ensure you never picked on little OCS boy again. They never played well with others nor understood the meaning of the word “share”. Sometimes they wanted to fight you and afterwards there was no saying sorry and making a new friend! (If you fought afterwards you made a friend;my era school yard rules)

Little does my 7-year-old know he is behaving like an only child, like a prima donna, like the world should bow before him! Like he should be able to snap his little fingers and POW! Mommy and daddy are running around like chickens with their heads cut off, all to please his majesty!

I wonder where this behavior comes from? I question it constantly? He is the fourth of four children. The two older ones are older by quite a bit and his sister is only a year ahead of him. This make me wonder if he is carrying a form of “little” child syndrome? ( I totally made that up) To little to do anything good. “Good” meaning anything he is not allowed to do and since there is no one smaller than him, he has no one to dominate over? Gosh, I guess carrying all that frustration inside must make him feel as though he needs to exert dominance over everyone just to be noticed! (Just thinking outloud) But where he is failing miserably is the finesse! He also hasn’t mastered the art of manipulation or revenge! If my little brother had continually gotten me in trouble by leaving a messy room after I cleaned it up…. Short sheet beds, warm water on the hand at night, cayenne pepper on the pillow, and my personal favorite, the freshly dogged licked toothbrush are just a few that come to mind. Now I know that sounds like a lot to ask from a seven-year old. But not this little boy, he is a softer Stewie Griffin! I promise! Some nights I swear he’s up in his room playing with Legos trying to create a death ray so he can control all of mankind!

But why, why has he not mastered these skills, why is he behaving like a little “snot” with OCS? Why is he lacking the ability to cope with just about any situation he comes across? Why does he say Cool Whip with an emphasis on the WH? (only Family Guy lovers will get that). Well I think I have the answer, and I am pretty sure that all you parents with multiple children are going to say one of two things after I tell you.

  1. Not true I treat all my kids the same you are a crazy hack!
  2. Holy Cow! You are right I didn’t realize I was doing that, oh my gosh!

So here it is: Those of us with multiple kids have a tendency to treat them differently from the rest. They are babied a little more, we do things for them we didn’t with the two middle children. They get a little more cuddly time than the others. When they fall down and hurt themselves, super special attention is paid to them! Do you know why? Huh do ya? Because they are the last freaking child! HELLO!!!!!! They are and will be the baby until the day YOU die! There are no more kids behind left to cuddle and snuggle and hold. No more story time, no more butterfly kisses! No more play-dough sculptures and macaroni paintings, class plays and cookie social. The last of the squeaky, cute voices running through the house naked after a bath! Santa Claus is on his way out, the tooth fairy is forever banished back to imaginary land! And don’t even get me started on the existence of the sugar crack peddling Easter Bunny! Yep that’s right get all those special moments and emotions in while you can because JR is growing up and there’s nothing you can do about it!!

Heres where the OCS (Only Child Syndrome) comes back into play. Now take all that awesome parenting you have done (Snuggles, painting, story time etc..) with the last kid. Throw in all the parenting you havent done! Remembering the last kid gets into the least amount of trouble with the parents because the parents have a tendency to let the older children do a fair portion of the parenting. You know what I am talking about; between babysitting and watching them while you run errands. Being to exhausted to care after squelching emotional fires all day between the four of them. Suddenly it all makes sense! It has all come together! The picture is painted with the brush strokes of ignorance!

So how do we fix it? How do we get our little “Stewie” to quit acting like a prima donna and help his older brother with his room? How do we start acting like parents should and quit babying the baby? Well I really don’t think there is a definitive answer to those questions. You are always going to baby your baby, that’s all there is to it. It is a right of passage for you as a parent when the youngest grows up and moves on into the world. They will always be your baby and there is nothing they can do about it either. So try a little harder to at least equal out the special treatment just a little. Also maybe its time we took some of the responsibility away from the oldest all while recognizing him for his contributions to his mother and I’s sanity.

What I ended up doing to stop the “I want him to move out of the room” squabble was the best. When it was time for bed I kept his older brother downstairs. After a while a humble little 7-year-old came down asking when his brother was coming to bed? He’s not I replied, now off to bed with you. The 7-year-old came down again asking the same question to which I replied in a sarcastic Father knows best tone, I thought you wanted your own room? Meekly the answer came back. He can stay, please, I really didn’t mean it. Can he come to bed now? Yep something comforting about having your 11 year old “big” brother sleeping in the top bunk when you’re 7 and still scared of the dark! Huh? Sleep well little “Stewie” theres always tomorrow for world domination.

P.S. No children with OCS were harmed in the writing of this blog.

Childhood Epidemic

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The clock is ticking and its only a matter of time.  Its an epidemic of such great proportion that I think its high time it was recognized.  This “sickness” comes on while they are young and once it attaches itself to the host body, recovery can be long an arduous.  Recognizing  the “sickness” at a young age is most important if you wish to cure it!  It starts over the simplest of tasks and fighting it takes nerves of steel. Although there seems to be many theories about how to treat this “virus”, once it has set in, it is pure hell to eradicate. When it infects one, it usually infects all.. 

The day starts out like any other, kids get up, coffee is made, breakfast is had, kitchen is cleaned.  Through conversation with the kids the days activities are planned out, excitment is in the air.   The little ones are jumping up and down, “to the park” they exclaim with glee!  The middle son is quietly pestering the oldest one to hang out with him today!  Maybe do a little bike riding and bouncing on the trampoline?  Oh yeah the day is looking stellar!  MAN VACATION ROCKS!  Can be heard echoing up and down the hallway!  No school, oh yeah, no school for us fools!!!  Whooo Hooooo!  

While this is happening my wife is slowly waking up to the glorious smell of the coffee that fills her favorite mug.  Ahh yes the hearty smell of French Roast wafts through the air bringing the senses alive!  The brain kick starts after just one sinful sip.  MMMMmmmm  so good.  And then it happens, she asks herself; Self what needs to be accomplished today?  The answers come flooding in like watching the great Niagra falls pour into its basin.  And without haste she writes them down on a piece of paper which subsequently gets transferred to the dreaded “chore board”! 

Now the Chore board is this wonderful thing my wife and I have placed on the wall just outside our childrens bedrooms.  Its a white, dry erase board that has the daily chores written upon its glowing white face.  There are no excuses as to why their chores arent done once the chores have adorned the “chore board”.  Its right there in front of them for all too see!  My children booo the chore board and have a very strong 6th sense about its existence.  It seems that all is tranquill and happy until my wife or I start to write on a piece of paper, then before we can transfer the contents of said paper to the board amazingly all forms of life have disappeared from our home. 

Which brings me full circle to the “sickness, the epidemic, the virus” if you will…  Its called LAZINESS!  Yep thats right, good ole fashioned laziness!  The same kids that would build a bridge with the exuberance, skill  and expertise to rival the one crossing the river Kwai if it meant no adults and playtime till dark on the other side.  Suddenly have come down with the strangest of afflictions when it comes to completing their assigned chores. 

The smallest one inevitably lays on the floor and cries that he cant complete the cleaning of his room because he didnt make the mess!  After a half hour of crying and sniveling he miraculously comes down sick. Now here’s where the littlest shines above the rest! He has the ability to throw up on cue! Oh yeah! Put that in your pipe and smoke it! Think of all the jambs we could have gotten out of with that talent! Part of me is jealous, its like watching one of those goats that faints out of fear! Sometimes he is so good at it you are not sure whether or not its part of the act!

Next up! My daughter, who also cries at the mere thought of picking up anything in her room, she sits on her bed screaming, chanting, its not fair!  To which the reply is “you’re right honey its not fair” maybe your room will like you more if you keep it cleaner.  I am not sure which is worse, her screaming or the fact we have her believing that her room lives and has feelings! After a half an hour she has miraculously come down sick.

My  middle child will march upstairs and decide that he is going to “take charge” and tighten this ship up by running a perfect operation.  R. Lee Ermy would be proud of the charged up insults flying around the room as he treats his little brother (also his bunkmate) like a scumbag private! Of course his little brother will eventually have enough of his barrage and do one of two things. He will cry some more or vomit!  (think fainting goat) This never works out well for him yet he does it every single time!  Within a half hour and no signs of progress on the horizion, amazingly he is also sick.  “My tummy hurts, my arm hurts, is my hand swollen and I have a headache” are the ususal cries. Bad soldier…

The older child of course just lets out a heavy teenager sigh, wanders into his room, shuts the door and within a half hour comes out done and ready to move on with his day.   No sickness, aparently his immunity system is strong!  I wish we could harvest the anti-venom flowing in his veins to use on the others.  I suppose it means there is hope after all?

Of course as a parent you cannot waiver, you cannot let them see that you are actually thinking about checking their little temperatures even though you know this “sickness” is a sham to get out of chores.  You cannot let them off the hook, oh no! These little chores add up to bigger chores which add up to earned responsibilities.  Those responsibilities allow them future freedoms, and future freedoms prepare them for life which of course leads to the dreaded day you can sit back, pat yourself on the back as they prepare to walk out the door and say; job well done, (slowly now) job well done.. 

Yet there it is, the sickness, the epidemic that is sweeping across the country enveloping our youth.  Stay strong fellow parents, know your limitations, dont waiver even for a second.  For if you do the epidemic will grow, the youth will suffer and we will be left as senior citiznes to change our own diapers because our kids are to lazy to do it for us.  And really no one wants that! Do you???

I didn’t do it!

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I didn’t do it! The famous last words of the guilty child. When you have multiple children and something has gone wrong the phrase “I didn’t do it” rings down from the heavens!
I found a hole conviently dug into the back seat in my truck. A hole the size of a quarter and growing bigger on the canvas of leather it now encompassed. Now since I have 4 kids and only 3 of them sit in the back, the eldest was immediately found innocent and released from custody. The other three of course continued to proclaim their innocence through many different mediums. The youngest took to screaming and crying stating he would swear on the life of his dog (he doesn’t have a dog) that he didn’t do it. The middle child, my daughter, just kept repeating over and over; not me dad not me! All while slyly pointing at the back of my youngest’s head. The 3rd boy of course was preaching much of the same all while flailing his arms around to get the point across and slyly pointing to my daughter.
I didn’t do it! A resounding argument, no facts needed, no clues given, just taken at its face value alone should help me in releasing my prisoners.
Just as the whining and sniveling started to reach its crescendo I noticed a sharp object in the hand of my daughter and as I pulled the sharp object from her hand the other two in unison both turn and shout “she did it” ahhh childhood justice! Freedom for the unjustly accused! For before I could lean down and ask her if she actually used the pen to make the hole she under quivering lip says; I’m sorry dad….and with tears running down her face she mumbles; I don’t know why I did it, but I can see your pretty mad and I’m sorry. As the other two chant like tribesmen looking for a beheading I take a deep breath, lean down and say ever so quietly. Thank you for telling me the truth. Don’t let it happen again and I love you….
Problem solved, and as my wife strolls in and ask what all the crying and sniveling is about I calmly look her dead in the eye and mutter “I didn’t do it”