If Its Broken, Deny It. Blame it on Rocky the Raccoon.

A curious thing is happening at my house.

Paint is peeling.

Objects are breaking at random.

Spills are materializing.

It's coming out of nowhere.

Who's doing these things to me?

I can only imagine. I've begun to think it must be some sort of ghost. A ghost on a rather irritating journey of destruction, determined to undermine all of my housework [notice how I said all, as if to imply that I do a lot of housework]. Perhaps its a kind of retribution? Bad cleaning karma? Revenge brought on by some raccoon who swallowed the gum I threw out the window? Or some bird who choked on that balloon I let fly?

Must be. Because it's certainly not my children doing these things. Not those beautiful, squeaky-clean, well mannered, selfless, honest little life specimens. Of course not. I can't imagine doing such things [and then lying about said things' exsistence] would even cross their minds.

Nope. Not my kids.

*ahem*

Me: Where did that spill come from?
Dearest Children: I don't know.
Me: Well it must have come from somewhere.
Statement greeted with silence and then....
Hayden: I might have spilled my Vitamin water....

.....

Aaron [also known as my husband, dad, guy with a beard]: Did you guys peel that paint off the wall?
Me [to Aaron]: But I thought you did that.
Aaron: Uh, no. I didn't.
Me: But I asked them about it earlier and they clearly said no, it wasn't them. And I, uh, believed it.
Both parents shoot disapproving looks in the general direction of children.

Cash: Uh. We did it with a screwdriver?
Hayden: Yeah. Standing on top of here [points to skinny corner edge on the top bunk of their bunk beds].

Me: Sighs in disbelief. Faints from betrayal.

.....

Me: Hayden, I noticed my beloved [hideous green & white ceramic] frog upstairs was missing a piece of its mouth. Do you know how that happened?
Hayden: No.
Me: Really? You know you can tell me these things...I won't get mad.
Hayden: Well, Ithrewmytruckandithititanditbrokeanditwasanaccident.
Me: Now that's more like it.

See what I mean? The whole ghost explanation was way more interesting.

Now, please feel free to make me feel better by admitting there's a wandering little ghost with sticky fingerprints and muddy shoes destroying your house too? PLEASE???