Things get a little out of sorts with The Kidling in the house. The Mama tends to overlook the disasters. If I don’t see them, then I don’t have to clean them, right?

I know. With this kind of reasoning, I’d better watch out when The Kidling turns 13.

Alice’s father, The Dada, has no such delusions.  Saturday morning, he noticed marks on a wall outside The Kidling’s bedroom.

The Dada: (pointing to large area on wall covered in red marks) Alice, did you do this?

Alice: No, it wasn’t me.

The Dada: Put your hand on the mark. (places Alice’s hand over the messy area and points to each corresponding mark) Finger, finger, finger, finger, thumb. That looks like a perfect match to me.

Alice: No, it wasn’t me. See? This mark is longer than my finger. (points to mark that is not, in fact, longer than her finger)

(The Dada goes into Alice’s room and sits down. Alice follows, maintaining her innocence)

The Dada: Well, this sounds like a mystery to me.

Alice: Yeah! We should try to solve the mystery!

The Dada: Well, maybe we can look for clues?

Alice: Yeah!

The Dada: Alice, go look at the mark. See what color it is.

Alice: Sure! (runs to the hallway. Looks at the wall  in silence. Hurries back)  It’s red. 

The Dada: Hmmmm, a red mark?  (pauses. For effect. He is totally digging this) Maybe you can go to the shower and see if you can find anything red.

Alice: Yeah! (hurries away. Several moments pass in silence. Suddenly, she hurries back) Dad, there’s nothing red in the shower except a red shower crayon.

The Dada:  Hmmmm.  There’s a red mark on the wall, and there’s a red shower crayon in the shower. These seem like good clues. (The Kidling nods solemnly) Alice, who’s been in the shower lately?

Alice: I took a shower last night.

The Dada: Hmmmm. So there’s a red mark on the wall the size of a kid hand, a red shower crayon in the shower, and you took a shower last night? These seem like good clues.

Alice: Yeah, but it wasn’t me.

The Dada: Alice, do you remember what happened at the end of your shower last night? Didn’t you throw a fit? And Mom had to get you out of the shower quickly? Do you think that maybe you didn’t have time to wipe the red crayon off your hands completely?”

The Mama: (emerges from bedroom. Confession time. I had been in bed giggling during this entire conversation. Saturday mornings are amazing) Maybe, Alice… Maybe you were running down the hallway (runs from bathroom down hallway dramatically) and maybe you were so fast you couldn’t run straight (heads toward wall and deflects (dramatically) off the wall with hand) and maybe (places hand on the hand print) this is your hand print?

Alice: Yeah, but it wasn’t me.

Yep. We gave up.

About The Mamahttp://kidlingville.comProfessional talker, editor, emailer, problem solver, adjunct lecturer, blogger, and mother to the brilliantly absurd Kidling.

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