My son has long since recognized the tone adapted that foretells impending doom. His defensive tactics of late have been to promptly assume an angelic expression as well as vocal tone and promptly utter "I didn't do it" before any accusations have even been made. Reminding me all to well of my brothers response to most tense moments under our own mothers stare. But unlike my brother he has yet to realize the implications in defending himself in such a manner. My daughter on the other hand coolly observes her brother dig an early grave, analyzing each response both Miguel and I provide, and when the odds are tipped in her favor, produces an innocent response that will fully relieve her of any disapproval I may have initially bestowed on her. An apologetic but guilty confession, taking the blame off her brother, at this point means my anger has already been spent elsewhere and she receives a much lighter punishment, if any at all. Granted in many situations Miguel is the guilty party after having been pushed to his breaking point, by his loving sister who enjoys testing every line and limit. She has mastered the art of waiting until she is not under the watchful eye of any authoritative figure and initiating the silent movie version of Sherman's march to the sea. Somewhere along the line the talkie is introduced and Miguel is left holding the fire. Years from now I have no doubt they will enjoy hours of reminiscing over the trouble they gave each other and got in.
I've no explanation for the insane cycle that my mother refuses to break of placing out an endless supply of mouse traps only to fall victim to their adorable nature once one manages to spring the trap over a single appendage. We then spend hours contemplating the fate of the tortured rodent while watching it struggle to get free growing increasingly agitated over its condition but not compassionate enough to release it back into the house to wreak continued havoc among my mothers kitchen utensils, and clothing. Eventually my father is brought into the equation to dispose of the innocent animal in a form unknown to my mom and I. The regret at placing the traps out in the first place lasts all of two hours until holes torn from a favorite garment are discovered and the ruthless trapping ritual returns.
