Our eldest son isn't someone who could
be considered 'sneaky'.
In fact, I think he swings quite the
other way.
Oh, he tries.
In fact, when he was little, he used to
fancy himself a ninja.
The master of subtlety and sneak-iness.
But when it came to actually . . .
shifting the blame, or obfuscation of facts?
He was lost.
And oddly enough, it was usually
because he couldn’t bear to leave things in a disorderly manner.
Let's face it. Sneaking into other
people's possessions, and tidying them before you leave?
Better than they were before?
Not the most subtle of practices.
When Mark was 12, his scout group was
fund-raising.
He dutifully received his case of
chocolate-covered almonds.
I should point out that he was supposed
to sell them.
He didn't.
The case rested - for safety's sake and
because I knew my almond-loving son - on the floor in my bedroom.
Daily, I lifted one of the boxes on top
and rattled it.
Just to make sure it hadn't been
tampered with.
In hindsight, I should have dug deeper.
Moving on . . .
The evening came when we had been
planning to go door-to-door.
I lifted the case.
It was surprisingly light.
Much too light.
I discovered that the only boxes that
actually contained almonds were the four on the top.
Mark had been systematically eating the
rest.
Then tidily sealing the empties and
putting them back into the box.
Sigh.
He also had a thing for ice cream.
The sneaking of which was a family
Olympic sport.
But where the other kids would grab a
spoon and sneak a bite, then dispose of said spoon into the sink
where it would instantly achieve anonymity.
Mark would get out a bowl.
And spoon.
Sneak his ice cream.
Then rinse the bowl and spoon.
And set them in the freezer.
With the ice cream.
Remember what I said about subtlety?
Yep. Not happening.
Years have passed.
I can't comment about his almond/ice
cream snitching ways or their effectiveness today.
His wife has to worry about that.
It's a perfect world.
