One morning, a few weeks ago, while in the truck on the way to school, the third row occupants were not getting along. Well, that’s not exactly correct. Two brothers were getting along great, and working together to torment their sister. She was not impressed at all; quite upset that she was strapped into a car seat located between her offending siblings.
Finally, in a fit of rage, she screamed her brother’s name and told him to leave her alone. Here’s the problem, the brother she accused was contentedly looking out the window in the second row.
The look of bewilderment on his face was priceless.
As I tried to suppress my urge to giggle, I asked her why she had chosen to accuse the brother who was not involved at all. And with a look of exasperation and loud voice she said:
“Mom, because sometimes it is his fault!”
