“Wha….Wha…WHA….WHAT!?!” came the increasingly shrill sound of Miss4 not being happy about something.
The doors to the lounge room swung open angrily and there she was, frowning up at us.
Suddenly her fist shot out.
Thankfully it pulled up short – because that girl has so much will power behind her she makes Bruce Lee’s 6 inch punch look girly – and she opened her hand to reveal a dozen or so tiny corn cornels.
The jig, as they say, was up. Our little Sherlock had pieced the evidence together.
“Someone ate popcorn while I asleep!” she snapped accusingly. There is no crime more heinous in the mind of a four year old. Or so it would seem.
She was right, of course. Last night we had a heap of boys sleeping over for Master11’s birthday party. They had a riot of a time and all slept (or not) in the lounge room watching movies and playing an assortment of game consoles. Shortly after our little girls had gone kicking and screaming to bed I’d microwaved four packs of popcorn and delivered them to the boys with the proviso they didn’t leave telltale white popcorn all over the floor.
They say most crooks are caught because they make a dumb mistake. I’m proof of that hypothesis. I forgot to mention the popcorn seeds.
“Did they?” I said, feigning stupidity.
That doesn’t work with her mother either.
“I want some!” screamed Miss4.
“We don’t have any for you,” I countered, unrealistically thinking that would be the end of it. “But you can have fruit,” I suggested, pointing to the box of apples under the kitchen counter.
Suddenly there were hands on hips and her eyebrows were knotted.
“You a bully,” she told me. “That not fair. I want popcorn too.”
Those were the three sentences, but typing it like that really doesn’t convey the effect they had on my nerves, mostly because they were repeated ad nauseam for nearly two hours.
Like the last half of a season of Survivor, some decisions are self-servingly poor – and giving in to a child to shut them up definitely falls into that category – and are only about surviving to fight again another day.
So I ‘stole’ a pack of microwave popcorn out of Miss8’s box of goodies for her party tomorrow. I’m staking all my hopes on the smartest, most anal, most dot the i’s and cross the t’s child of mine, effectively a little Monk or Poirot, not noticing, because an upset Miss8 is to an upset Miss4 what a volcano is to a match.
They say crime doesn’t pay. If this goes bad tomorrow, and I strongly suspect it might, I think I’ll turn myself in.
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Raising a family on little more than laughs