“Who left biscuits in my bed?” asked Miss13 as we were packing up to move camps from Mullumbimby to Alstonville.
I saw this as a frustrating question for two reasons – and it wasn’t even my bed!
The first problem was the kids aren’t allowed in each other’s bunks without permission from the bed because, in lieu of a great big couple of bedrooms to destroy between them, they essentially share a couple of thin wardrobes between the five of them. We think the kids need to have a space they can call their own. A not entirely unrelated bonus of this is they can be chastised for not cleaning that particular space without being able to blame anyone else.
The second rule of the bus is no food in the bedroom section of the bus.
And I don’t understand why this has to be a rule because why would you want to eat in your bed and risk crumbs?
I determined immediately to find out who did this. Questions would be asked. Threats would be issued. No stone would be left untur-
“Oh,” said Master12, all innocence as he turned to face his sister. “I did.”
A-plus for honestly, I thought to myself as I took a deep breath to begin hurling a tsunami of chastisement his way.
But he went on…
“I thought you left it on my bed to prank me,” he told his sister, “so I was giving it back.”
It soon became clear she hadn’t been involved.
Which still begged the question, who left the bits of biscuit on his mattress?
Well, it seemed today was the day for taking ownership of your mistakes.
“I’m sorry,” pipped up Miss5, sounding almost exactly the way a remorseful person wouldn’t.
“Why would you do that?” Tracey asked her calmly. Meaning I had a lung full of rant I clearly wasn’t going to get a chance to use today. “You’re not allowed food on the beds.”
“And you’re not allowed on your brother’s bed unless he says it’s okay,” I added helpfully, thrilled to hammer home some sort of point.
“Okay, I’ll tell you the story now,” said Miss5, settling back on her chair and getting animated. “I ate a cracker I wasn’t allowed to have so I took it to the bed and it cracked so I put it there and went and got another one. Then you came and I had to put that cracker in the hole.”
“Hole?” Tracey and I said in unison. Also, in horror. “What hole?”
Three handfuls of biscuit bits later…
We thought, when we stuffed all our belongings into every nook and crevice we could find, we’d utilised every square inch of space in this bus.
I’m thinking from now on, if we don’t catch Miss5 walking up the back with food in her hands, we really need to stop interrupting her until she’s secretly finished eating in her bed or we’re going to have food crammed into spaces we don’t know exist unless we spot a trail of ants disappearing into the cracks.
Also, next time we repack the bus she’s being conscripted.