“Andy, come over here,” said Mom.
Four-year-old Andy walked over, suspiciously. Mom was using that calm voice that usually meant he’d done something wrong, but didn’t know it was wrong yet and was about to find out.
As he walked he thought over all the things he’d done over the morning so far.
He got up fine. Not too early, not too late. He was allowed to come downstairs alone, that was fine. He hadn’t woken Betsy up. Betsy was eight and hated to be woken up early. She always yelled, so he just tip-toed by her door.
He had not let the cat out, but did give her kitty treats. Both fine. He turned on the TV and got out his cereal. Mom always let him eat dry cereal while he was waiting for her to come downstairs to make breakfast.
He glanced back at the sofa, no spilled cereal. Huh. He seemed to have done everything right. He looked back at Mom. She wasn’t angry, just concerned. He couldn’t be in really big trouble.
As he finally got to Mom she put her hand under his chin and lifted it up, looking at his face. “Tell me the truth. Was your sister playing with make up again last night?”
“Did she try some out on you?”
Mom burst out laughing. “I’m so sorry, Honey, I have to get a picture of this before I wash it off. Is that alright?”
“Yes, can I see it too?”
“Of course!” She held up a mirror and showed Andy his face all made up like a clown except it was all mushed now by sleep.
“So,” Andy said, “this time it’s Betsy who’s in trouble?”
“That’s right!” Mom said.