I’ll be honest, sometimes I think Noah gets the bum rap being an only child. Take, for example, this:
A beautiful work of art, done with Crayola markers, smack dab in the middle of one of our couch cushions. Now, I am not one to automatically assign guilt, but upon finding it, I had a sneaky suspicion of who the culprit might be. After all, there are only two people living in our house, and I personally had no recollection of the events in question.
I called Noah in, and aimed his attention at the mark. “Noah, do you know how this got here?” I don’t know, he said. “Really? It wasn’t here a little while ago, but now it’s here. Are you sure you don’t know?” Again he declared that he hadn’t an idea who the criminal mastermind might be. He shrugged his little shoulders and looked at me with trace amounts of panic in his eyes.
And… there. Right there is where I couldn’t help but laugh.
You see, I grew up in a family of ten children. And believe me, if nobody saw you scribble on the couch, you didn’t scribble on the couch. If nobody saw you spill the cereal all over the floor, you never even touched the cereal. My parents had their ways of getting to the bottom of things, but I learned pretty quickly that as long as you weren’t elbow deep in the cookie jar when somebody walked in the room, you could usually get away with all the cookies you wanted.
Poor Noah. Nobody on whom to dish his atrocities. No innocent person for him to stand beside as he thwarts authority. Nobody to team up with to leave dad scratching his head as he tries unsuccessfully to uncover the truth.
Don’t get me wrong. There are a lot of perks to being the only child, too. This just isn’t one of them.
Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing
PS. What’s the funniest thing your child has tried to deny? And if you are a parent, do you find it more difficult to get to the truth when there are a bunch of kids running around?