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The Blame Falls on Me



Hello everyone,


For the past three months, my bride of twenty-eight years pops out to the front porch to check on things on a regular basis. About once a week her ability to reenter through the front door becomes barred because someone locked the bottom lock. The deadbolt remains locked at all times unless it’s in use. The door latch doesn’t need locking because she doesn’t like dealing with it and it is not very secure compared to the deadbolt.


Once a week for three months, she walks around the house to the back door and blames me for the front door rejecting her from entering. “I have not locked the bottom in two years,” I exclaim.


“You are the only one who locks doors in this house,” blamed back at me.


Tuesday nights host our small Group including a young family of eight and five-year-old girls with a two-year-old boy. The boy boasts blond hair and an angelic face. As they are preparing to leave, this sweet baby moves toward the door and turns the lock from horizontal to vertical without even trying.


Watching in amazement, I scream, “You are the one getting me into trouble.” Then explain to his father how I get blamed for him locking the door. As my wife plays with the girls in the front yard, I tell her to stop blaming me for the boy locking the door. She points out his innocent face and denies his culpability in her entrapment.


The discussion wanders past the guest leaving and our nineteen-year-old comes down to the kitchen and I vindicate myself to her looking for moral support.


“I lock the bottom lock all the time,” flows out of her mouth.


“What, I’ve been blaming your dad for it.”


“Why don’t you check it before going out?” in a sassy teenage voice.


Beaming with pride for my daughter, “That’s what I’ve been saying all summer.”


Then realization settles in, “Wait, you allowed your mother to yell at me all summer for what you did. How could you throw dear ole dad under the bus like that? That was a whole train of English Double-Decker busses at that.”


She smiles and goes back to her room. It dawns on me, that she works the long game since early spring getting me in trouble and annoying her mother. She aggravates the two people who loved her the most for many months. Was this planned, I think to myself. Does my daughter possess the deviousness to play us or was it just a happen-chance occurrence? Either way, it made her grin a sinister smile and a twinkle in the eye with the results.


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God bless,

Danny Mac


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