The mystery yet unresolved

The young ones are tucked in bed. Once again earlier than required as a punishment for breaking one of the very simple rules of the house. We have 5 rules in our house. They are basic. I think most homes have them. They are:

1 - no running (you could squish a cat)
2- no jumping off of things (you could squish a cat or hurt the squishy parts of you)
3- no throwing things (you could break things or get broken by things)
4- be honest and trustworthy (never lie...ever...it is so much worse)
5- be polite and respectful (if it ain't yours, don't mess with it. If it is yours, put it away)

I sit here on my couch in my pajamas. My frosty toes wrapped in a blanket hoping insulation and friction might one day soon bring them warmth. Coke Zero, a sad substitute for the cookies in the pantry, is going down like butter beer on a Hogsmead weekend. I'm contemplating the difficulty of these 5 simple rules.

My offspring believe, with the whole of their hearts, that these 5 rules are the most unjust of all rules. If we were to search the lengths and breadths of the land we would be want to find any other rules as unjust and truly horrible as the 5 we have inflicted upon these poor mistreated children.

Three days in a row we have had to sit down and discuss the 5 rules. We have talked about each in depth. We have explained why each was put in place. We have asked each child to recite them back to us as a confirmation that each has indeed absorbed the information. Each day they immediately go away from the discussion and immediately break one of said rules. Yesterday my eldest son sat with me for 15 minutes and discussed rule #1 - no running. He had broken the rule just moments before and I wanted to make sure he understood the rule. I was giving him a chance to learn without punishment. I sat with him, discussing the whys and wherefores of the rule. After the discussion he pledged to never ever run in the house again. His round innocent eyes blazed into my heart and I believed him. I told him I would love it if he could follow the rules, but if he did find a way to break it again, his punishment would come swift and sure. He once again pledged eternal vigilance. I let him go from the discussion, sure that this time I had gotten through. My son walked 5 steps from the table where we had just completed the discussion and then took off running to his bedroom. He went to bed an hour early for his crimes.

His sisters are no better. After numerous discussion on throwing things, these two twin terrors have found themselves serving early bedtimes in lieu of hard time.

Today, I entered my home, my place of refuge from the world. I greet my children, dutifully and diligently working on their homework. My trouble sensor flicks to "on". Somethings up. Why are they being so...good? I begin searching my home, quietly. I don't want to draw attention to the fact that I am suspicious. My searching reveals nothing significant. So why are they acting so...good? For one brief moment I allow myself to believe they aren't the con-artists that I almost accused them of being. Ahhhhh...the deep sigh of an overreaction lay to rest. I take my stuff to my bedroom in hopes of a relaxing night. My room is...not quite right. I can't figure it out. Something is wrong. The smell of my perfume still hangs in the air like I just put it on, my pillows are...not right, my makeup is in the wrong place...

It hits me like a long wooden pole in a jousting competition. They had been in there!!! They were playing in my room. That is rule #5 - be polite and respectful. My room is off limits. I went out to the kitchen and there sat my three children. Angelic looks upon their young innocent faces. All three held up their homework, hoping to invoke my pride and distract me from whatever my thoughts were...con-artists everyone. I asked calmly, "who was in my room?" My son, unwilling to go down alone, blurted out "they did it too!!!" His sisters shot him death ray glares. It is lucky for him they haven't actually honed that power yet. My youngest daughter turned to me and asked "how did you know?" The question was not asked out of penance. No, it was asked as a form of re-con. What she was really saying was something along the lines of "we will want to do it again some day soon, and we wanted to know what it was that gave us away. We will need to cover the trail better next time. Any information you, Mother, could supply us with would be of great help in future schemes."

They went to bed early again. I am not sure if it is the best punishment, but they seem to hate it when they can't stay up and it keeps me from inflicting punishments that would bring into question parental rights.