Last night, when I went over to the piano to start practicing, I noticed that there was a pile of forks sitting on top. There must've been at least twenty of them - every fork in the house.
"Kids," I called. "Who put the forks on the piano?"
"Bubba did," my daughter said.
"I did not!" Bubba retorted.
Hmmm. Something suspicious was going on here. I walked over to my husband who was saving the galaxy on his computer. "Did you put the forks on the piano?"
No answer. He must've been engrossed in a big battle.
I knew I had to do a little detective work.
"Now why would somebody put forks on top of a piano?" I asked my son.
"Probably to get them away from Daddy."
"Why would you need to get them away from Daddy?"
"I didn't need to, but my sister did. Daddy was chasing her around trying to poke her with a fork."
I walked over to my daughter. "Was Daddy chasing you with a fork?"
"Yeah. He tried to stab me in the tush!"
Whoa. "Why?" I asked.
"Maybe because I was being obnoxious."
Oh. "So you were the one who put the forks on the piano."
My daughter looked down at her feet. "Yes."
I'm such a good detective! Now I have to figure out what to do with the Daddy. Maybe I should lock him in the crate with our German Shepherd, Schultz!