As I’m writing this, my 8 year old daughter is in her room screaming through tears… and not in a I’m-so-happy-I-could-cry way. My husband is in there with her. It’s getting ugly. It’s been at least 15 minutes of drama. Why? Well, let me tell you a story…
Summers in Southern California mean two things to my children: swimming and Otter Pops. Since our community pool is technically not open yet (hello Memorial Day), they have been on an Otter Pop kick. Now that the weather is reaching up into the 90’s, the kids and their friends have been raiding my garage freezer for Otter Pops.
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Now my problem with this isn’t so much that they are taking more than one a day (my pre-set limit despite the fact that they are so addicting you can’t eat just one), it’s that they have collectively decided NOT to throw the plastic wrappers in the trash. I’d also like to add that I have a trash can readily available in the garage directly next to the freezer for their waste convenience.
After picking up yet another discarded plastic Otter Pop wrapper left on my garage floor, I became so enraged that I took the entire box of Otter Pops and dumped them into the garbage. Not the small one in the garage… the big green one on the side of the house that gets picked up by the Waste Management team once a week. All gone. Otter Pops were history. Or so I thought.
Jump to a few days ago and we were wondering why we were getting so many mosquitoes coming into our house. David decided to take a look around the house for stagnant water to see if that was the reason the nasty biting bugs were tormenting us. We have an old metal filing cabinet in the backyard (we’re not proud of the fact it is there… don’t judge) and he proceeded to open the drawers just to see if maybe they were filled with water from some previous rainfall.
What do you suppose he found? One hint: it was NOT water. Oh you are so smart… he found a pile of Otter Pops. Yes, a pile of them. Someone (and we had a pretty good idea who) went into the garbage and took them out and hid them in that filing cabinet.
Sooooo…. instead of throwing them back in the garbage, David put them back in the garage freezer. But… he hid them behind the frozen waffle box. As if my super smart spy kids wouldn’t find them.
Ha! They found them. When I walked outside, the girls were sitting on the front lawn eating… OTTER POPS! Imagine my surprise! Okay, I wasn’t really surprised, but you know what I mean.
I confronted the suspects with their alleged crime and wouldn’t you know it… they denied it all. Catch them red-handed with the evidence and they play dumb. Oh girls… won’t you ever learn you can’t put anything past your Mother?
So… we’re back to the beginning of the story. Confronted with the crime, my 8 year old decided that her father was going to kill her and took off running. Eventually she came home (they always do) and the screaming and crying ensued.
No, her Dad did not kill her. No, I did not kill her. We forgave. We hugged. She’s still upset. We’re still upset. Another fun story to fill a blog post.
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