Author: Merri Petrovits

You’ve been served.

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I apologize in advance for the crassness of this post. Crass really isn’t my style. But I think it’s time that you, Dear Reader, suffered along with me.

You see, Doug orchestrated a cake-decorating extravaganza, where the kids autographed my birthday cake with icing pens. It was a sweet moment. Their faces glowed with excitement as I leaned in to blow out the candles (which I would have preferred not to scream a reminder of my age…but I digress).

At that moment, I discovered that Doug had snuck in a signature of his own. (If you like your cake with white frosting, blue flowers and a side of vulgarity, see pic below.)

As the children clamored for me to make my wish, across the table was a smirk across Doug’s face wider than the cake itself.

You can probably guess which piece he found on his plate.

Coming clean is overrated.

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Yesterday I discovered a black hand print on our white bathroom sink.

“Which one of you put a hand print on the sink?” I demanded to the three suspects, who were buried behind their iPads in the living room.

“It wasn’t me,” they chanted on cue.

A mother knows her babies’ handprints, and so I shifted my focus to primary suspect #1.

“Anna, do you have something you need to tell me?”

You may recall that Anna just spilled her guts to a priest during her First Reconciliation last weekend, purging her soul of a laundry list of sins, thereby restoring it to its natural, pristine state.

“I didn’t do it,” she declared.

“Anna, the evidence is right there on the sink.”

“Why do you always blame me?” she persisted.

“Anna. You left your hand print.”

She blinked.

“I can match your hand to the hand print,” I decoded. “If they’re the same size, that means it belongs to you.”

I watched her blank stare melt into miffed acquiescence.

“Fine,” she huffed.

And with that, her newly pristine soul is black as the evidence before us.

This entry was posted in 8 Eight.