When I was little, I used to get blamed for things that my brother did. He'd be full out crying to them proclaiming his innocence but all along I knew. I knew he was guilty.
"Did you destroy that bathroom with all that shaving cream?" NO! He'd say. He never admitted to anything but as soon as he was off the hook the tears would dry up and he'd grin at me from ear to ear showing off his talents.
I remember wishing I had proof. "Just once" I'd wish. I would have loved to bust his bubble.
Well, these past few weeks,
Bur and I have been trying to find out
WHO has been playing on our bed and messing it up. It got so bad that I was forced to remake my bed 5+ times a day. We asked them and of course, no one came forward. I mean, yes - they blamed each other but I guess like my parents, I expected
MY kids to fess up.
So today, Mags brought me this..
I guess that settles the mystery. In case you can't tell - that is Trev. Sweet innocent Trev flipping on my bed. The one who promised that it wasn't him. And even after I showed him this, he said "Oh, I wasn't flipping, I was trying to do a handstand"