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When I wake up these days I find that I am having to immediately play detective. Super sleuth, gum shoe, P.I., a dick. All I need is a trench coat and well worn Fedora. I go in search of clues, evidence of crime. Sometimes they are glaringly obvious and sometimes they are subtle. I also get to be judge, jury and executioner (well punishment dispenser, anyway) when I inevitably find evidence of wrong doing. This morning it was a trail of ripped up cardboard leading to a pile of discarded plastic, crumbs and mutilated lunch meat. All of which had previously been a prepacked lunch time meal that my wife had gotten just for herself. That was one of the more obvious. Yesterday I was feeling like a CSI as I examined evidence of a raided refrigerator. I had found partially consumed yogurt packages on the counter. Not the cups of yogurt, mind you, but the plastic straw-like containers that allow one to consume the yogurt like a partially melted popsicle by sucking the contents out of the tube. The ends of the tubes are perforated to facilitate tearing them off, however, it is still a difficult task for a two and a half and a four year old. Hence they will resort to tools. There in lies the real crime. Yogurt theft is only a misdemeanor. Scissor use, however, is a felony in this household.

I examined the evidence and confronted the suspects. I had enough evidence for a conviction, but I was expecting to get a confession. Much of the evidence had been removed in an effort to cover their tracks. The chairs that had been used to reach the counter had been repositioned. A check of the waste bin indicated that paper towels had been used in an effort to clean up the evidence.

"See these smooth lacerations on the epidermal layer of the yogurt container?" the suspects remained stone faced. I continued "These markings are indicative of some sort of cutting implement. How did you open these?"
"Uhmmm." was the reply.
"You used the scissors, didn't you?"
"Uhmmm, uhm, uhm...uhmmmm." Rylee replied.
"I know that you used the scissors and I am very disappointed, but I want you to tell me the truth. Did you use the scissors to open these?" I continued.
"Uhmm...yeah." a long pause "Are you going to spank us?"
"Yes, I don't want to, but we have talked about this many times. First you don't get into the fridge without asking, you come get Mom or Dad. And second, we have told you not to touch the scissors many, many times. Those could hurt you." Not to mention that I don't want you to cut you hair again, I didn't add.
"Ohhhhhh!" They both said, not looking forward to a swat on the rump.
"Why did you do that? We talked about that before you went to bed." I asked again forgetting that all kids are brain damaged, at least according to Bill Cosby.
I wonder if I really expect an answer to that question. "Why?" I must, since I keep asking it.

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