I brought home a couple of bottles of leftover club soda after a party early in the week. I set them on the stove because they didn’t fit in the fridge and, as it was late, I went to bed.
When I walked into the kitchen the next morning I noticed one of the bottles was missing. My first thought was that the professor had gone on a little midnight club-soda-binge and emptied one of the bottles after I’d gone to bed. But that seemed weird and also (I think ) he’d gone to bed at the same as I.
‘Weird,’ I muttered at the same time my oldest walked through the kitchen. ‘What’s weird?’ he asked. ‘Well, I thought there were two bottles of soda on the stove but now there’s just one.’
And, with that said, we moved on with our mornings. Making coffee, for me. Playing for him.
‘Who put marker all over this chair?’ the professor asked-bellowed mere seconds later. I walked into the living room to observe the defaced armchair in question. ‘It wasn’t me,’ my oldest volunteered right away. Which, of course, we knew. It had to be the not-quite-three-year-old who’d roamed free earlier in the morning. Because we were too tired to get out of bed and supervise him.
I looked at the chair. Which was covered in black felt-tipped pen marks. The (professor’s preferred) marker had been abandoned on the chair by a distracted graffiti-ist. I also noted the missing 2 liter bottle of club soda….. on the seat cushion of said chair.
‘Well, I guess we know what happened to that other bottle of soda,’ the Gort piped up.