scapegoat

When I was learning how to read and write, I decided that furniture was a good place to practice my penmanship.

Knowing full-well that I would get into trouble, I thought I'd better not leave any clues that it was me.

So I carved my little brother's name onto every square inch of a bedroom dresser.

Yesterday my brother and his lovely wife stopped by with the most splendid sampling of sweets. (We're talking doughnuts, hot coco, marshmallows, frosted cookies, and fudge wafers.) The kids went absolutely hog-wild.

And Aunt Brie, in the fashion of any intelligent instigator of mischief, made sure to cover her tracks by writing my brother's name on the kitchen table with rolled wafers.

I love that woman.

Isn't family the absolute best?