In Our House Silence Means FEAR

If you stop, listen, and hear nothing, in our house you should be afraid, very afraid! Silence means that Brooke or Braden are yet again up to something. Does it take a matter of minutes for them to destroy, annihilate, break, or demolish? No, it takes only mere seconds, so we in the Maseda household are on constant alert; as soon as you let your guard down, paint ends up on the carpet, marker covered children appear in the doorway, chapstick handprints cover the bedroom wall, Brooke ends up covered in nail polish from head to toe, and various items end up in your toilet. Last night we experienced the toilet fiasco. Brooke and Braden were both in the bathroom going potty, should have been our first clue to be more vigilant; we however were so glad to finally have an adult conversation, that Rich and I let our guard down. Then I hear from the bathroom, "Mommy, Brooke put her panties in the toilet!" I look at Rich, "Rich, Braden said Brooke put her panties in the toilet." Rich's response, "No way, she has been sitting there the whole time, she couldn't have." (This is Brooke we are talking about, heaven knows how she does half the things she does) Trusting Rich's judgement I return to the conversation, when I hear, "Mommy, Brooke put her pajama pants in the toilet." I again look at Rich, "Rich, Braden said that Brooke put her pajama pants in the toilet." Again, Rich repeats his wisdom, and again, I naively follow it. I however should know better; I am home with Miss Destructo every day, and I know her cunning ways. Feeling lazy, I hope for the best and feign ignorance, not really wanting to deal with what I am almost positive is transpiring in the bathroom. However, about 30 minutes later, I can no longer turn a blind eye to Braden hurriedly stuffing his plastic animals into the toilet. I guess Braden thought, Hey, if Brooke can get away with it, so can I (what's good for the goose is for the gander); just in case though, let me be quick about it. Alas, Braden has not (thankfully) quite mastered cunning, so he is caught redhanded or should I say animal handed by Rich and I. Without sharing all the gory details we'll just say Rich was able to rescue and extract all of the animals and Brooke's panties from the toilet. Her cute Hawaiian flowered pajama pants I hate to say, are no more. They are now a permeanent resident of the sewage system. The moral of this story, 'Trust the little boy who loves to tattle and get off of your duff and check on your little rascal daughter.' 'If you think she is up to something, 9 out of 10 times you're right!'