Fessing Up Is Hard to Do

I walked into the kitchen and immediately noticed something unusual on the glass oven door.

There were strange markings all over it.

My first thought?

My kids are way too old for this.

Or so I thought.

I called everyone into the kitchen and began my investigation.

One by one, I asked if anyone knew anything about the mysterious markings.

Blank stares.

Shrugs.

"Nope."

"It wasn't me."

No one seemed to know a thing.

Clearly, it was time to bring out my mom detective skills.

I lined everyone up in front of the oven and carefully looked each one up and down, searching for any clue that might reveal the guilty party.

Avoiding eye contact.

Fidgeting.

Stuttering.

A nervous smile.

Anything.

I also had one important question.

"What did you write on my oven with?"

Eventually, I discovered it had been done with a Wikki Stix—one of the prizes from the library's summer reading program.

Not exactly easy to clean off...

But it certainly could have been worse.

After several minutes of questioning, I was getting nowhere.

Apparently my children were becoming better at keeping secrets...

Or maybe my mom powers were beginning to wear off.

Then Nathan suddenly blurted out in frustration,

"Who wrote all the N's on Mom's oven door?"

Without missing a beat, Britley stepped forward, planted her hands firmly on her hips, looked straight at Nathan, and declared,

"They're not N's, Nathan...

They're T's!"

Silence.

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

She had just solved the mystery...

Without realizing she'd confessed.

She calmly stepped right back into line, completely unaware that she'd given herself away.

Trying to keep a straight face, I simply said,

"Since no one is willing to fess up... Brit, would you please clean off the oven door?"

She smiled sweetly and replied,

"Sure, Mom."

Case closed.

There's a whole lot of ornery hiding behind that sweet little smile.