Why Is There A Glob of Chocolate Pudding On My Nightstand And Other Questions Parents Have To Ask

(This actually happened when my girls were still relatively young. It explains a lot about why I have silver strands mixed in with the blonde in my hair and why I have trouble expressing a complete thought.)

Me: “Can someone please tell me why I just found a glob of chocolate pudding on the nightstand in my bedroom?

No answer.

Me: “I know I wasn’t eating chocolate pudding in my room, so someone else in this house must know something about this.”

Youngest daughter M, twelve years old: “Oh yeah, that might have been me.”

Me: “You were eating chocolate pudding in my bed?”

M: “Nope.”

Me: “Then how did the pudding get there?”

M: “I had a headache.”

Me: “You had a headache?”

M: “Yup.”

Me: “And smearing chocolate pudding on the nightstand made your headache better somehow?”

M: “I needed to take a pill for my headache.”

Me: “And?”

M: “I can’t swallow a pill unless I put it in something else so I put it in a spoonful of chocolate pudding.”

Me: “Okay, but how did it get in my bedroom?”

M: “The cat was staring at me.”

Me: “So you flung the pudding at the cat and it landed on the nightstand? Was the pill still in it?”

M: “I didn’t fling the pudding at the cat. The cat was in the kitchen staring at me when I tried to swallow the pill, and it’s hard enough to swallow a pill without a cat staring at you, so I went upstairs to do it in the privacy of your room.”

Me: “Then what happened?”

M: “I’m not sure”

Me: “Let’s recreate the scene. You’re standing next to my bed. You have a spoonful of chocolate pudding in your ---which hand was it in?”

M: “The right hand.”

Me: “So the spoon is in your right hand and you raise it to your mouth and . . .”

M: “Oh yeah, I gagged on the pill.”

Me: “Now we’re getting somewhere! Did you spit the pudding and the pill onto the nightstand?”

M: “Ewwww, gross! No, I ran into the bathroom and spit the pill into the sink.”

Me: “Now think really hard, was the spoon in your hand when you got to the sink?”

M: “No.”

Me: “Picture the spoon. Where is it?”

M: “I remember now! I dropped it on the nightstand when I gagged.”

Me: “But I only found pudding on the nightstand. There was no evidence of a spoon.”

M: I went back and picked up the spoon and brought it to the kitchen so you wouldn’t get mad.”

Me: “Okay. Now I understand. Could you please grab a paper towel and go up and wipe up the pudding.”

M: “I can’t.”

Me: “Why not?”

M: “I have a headache.”