wednesday. may 5th. 6:00 p.m.
we had just finished eating dinner. it was a lovely evening and the kids had gone outside to play. I was in the middle of loading the dishwasher when I was summoned outside to check out some sidewalk chalk art:
I stayed outside for a time, soaking up the warm evening sun, listening to the chatter of kids, my thoughts drifting away in the gentle breeze,
d r i f t i n g a w a y...
waaaaaaa! I was drawn out of my reverie by the sound of loud wailing coming from inside. I better go check it out. besides, I still had to finish cleaning up the dinner mess.
I make my way into the kitchen, round the corner into the dining room and stop dead in my tracks.
scene of the crime:
apparently, someone had been craving a glass of milk. and by the looks of it, this someone had failed to stop pouring when the milk reached the top of the glass. I glanced around. the dining room was deserted. I bent down to take a closer look at the evidence and that's when I noticed it. scrawled in the milk was this simple message: "don't cry over spilled milk". then who did I just hear crying? or was that me?
after surveying the damage, I declared a national emergency. we had lost a third of a gallon of milk. and clean-up could take several hours. it was time to call in the troops.
I ran down the line, starting with the oldest:
Hannah? wasn't me.
Jake? not me, either.
Chloe? I would never do such a thing.
Myra? nope. I was outside.
Sawyer? Dad pours my milk.
Ella? vigorously shakes head no.
Phoebe? I didn't do this. (said with arms crossed.)
the kids point out that it's a sippy cup. none of us use that kind
of cup. hmmm...this is true.
last but not least:
Rowan? I quickly glance around and don't see him anywhere. where's Rowan? Roooowaaan?
aha! busted. I'm thinking the milk mustache is a dead giveaway. how about you?
PS. be sure and stick around...you just never know when another "crime scene investigation" may air.