Autumn's First Lie

Steve’s little Autumn has graduated from sippy cups into Real Live Grownup Cups. And apparently sometimes she tips her cup over. Perhaps she’s an amateur physicist studying the effects of gravity: Steve’s personal juice-covered Newtonian genius. Or perhaps she gets struck by spontaneous destructive urges, similar to the urge to fling something valuable off a cliff, or to snap anything tiny and delicate. Not that I would be familiar with those sorts of desires. Because I’m not. I’m mentally healthy. Just like Autumn.

And Autumn’s first lie occurred the other night when Steve and Nicole were in the kitchen getting dinner. Autumn was seated nicely in her seat at the table, cup in hand. When Steve and Nicole turned to the table, there it was: her drink, everywhere. They inquired: “What happened, Autumn?” “It spilled.” “And who spilled it?” There was silence for a moment as she wracked her brain, looking for the perfect answer, the one that her parents would NOT be able to question. Then she struck gold: “Murphy...or something.”

There you have it, folks. Their dog...”or something” spilled her drink.

I’m so proud of her.