Sebastian was running around at 8:30 in the morning, wearing his gray Spiderman shirt and some blue plaid shorts - a cute outfit he picked, that could only be improved if the shorts were not on backwards. He was holding a long green and gold whistle that I bought in Ireland before I had kids, tooting into it rather vigorously, then shaking it. Well that's weird...
"Mom, who put the raisins in the whistle?"
I know better than to say anything when asked a question like this, so I just stopped and looked to either side, waiting for him to clarify. He examined it again, then came over to look me in the eyes which were admittedly shifty.
"Mom, we don't put the raisins in the whistle," he said, taking my silence for an admission of guilt. "Mom, tell me, did you put the raisins in the whistle?"
No, actually. Quite surprisingly, I did not. I did not even have raisins yesterday. The person who had raisins yesterday was wearing an adorable brown polka dot dress and was wiping her hair out of her face for about an hour before she could be corralled with a ponytail holder. Last I saw after I gave her the box and told her I did not want to find any on the floor, she was on the floor sorting them out to eat them. Or so I thought.
I did not find raisins on the floor. Sebastian found them - what looks like an entire box of raisins minus the two I saw her eat - shoved into a whistle that is slightly more than a raisin in diameter. If you look in the finger holes, you can see Audrey's snack from yesterday, piled on each other in their new container.
Now I feel dumb: I thought she ate the raisins and then played the whistle for about 45 minutes. I was not aware that she used the raisins to see how her whistle would sound.
Of course, Sebastian eventually figured out who had put the raisins in the whistle and went to tell Audrey about the completely unanticipated new rule we have in our house: No Raisins in the Whistle.
No comments:
Post a Comment