"It was a ghost," he said.
I went into a whole spiel about how I wasn't mad about the pillows, but it was very, very, VERY important to tell the truth, and I would be mad if he did not tell the truth right this very second.
"Mommy," he said, looking me square in the eyes. "The ghost came into the room over here, and then he disappeared. Then he was by the table, like this [scary face with waving hands over his head]. Then he flew past the couch and knocked all of the pillows on the floor. Then he left."
It was a good story. It was a great story, actually, because I spent at least a minute considering the possibility that the pillows on the floor were, in fact, the work of a ghost. Remember the kitchen chairs scene in Poltergeist? I had this eerie vision of me returning to the room to find the couch cushions stacked like Stonehenge.
"Henry," I said, "you should be a writer when you grow up."
Henry grunted and rolled his eyes. "I already told you, when I grow up I'm going to be a princess."
love this!!
ReplyDeleteI love an eye roll from a shortie.
ReplyDeleteThis brings me back to the many, many lies I told as a child. Oh, there were so many. Did I confess them and do penance? I can't remember.
I'm still trying to convince dad that the half-empty rum bottle he found in my closet when I was 16 was NOT MINE....perhaps I'll try out the "it was ghosts" theory on him!!
ReplyDelete