Blame the Hand

There’s a thunder shower outside and A1 is holding a flash light in case the lights go out.

Earlier on I was on the computer when she came up to me, pressed on a few keys and my page was lost.

“How many times have I told you not to press on random buttons when mommy’s on the computer?”

She gave me her usual new age puppy face. Face down, eyes up, lips pinched and a little side to side rocking of motion of the head.

Are you reading this and trying the face?

“My hand did it, it wasn’t me” she said.

That answer took me back 20 years. I was 9 years old when I was sneaking around my parents’ basement. I was looking for a secret door leading to some kind of Candy Land/ Never Never Land when I came across the electric box; right under was a big red switch. I couldn’t resist, my hand just went for it. I pushed the switch off and the electricity of the entire house went out. I just stood there in the dark until my father found me. When he asked “But why?” My answer was non-other than “My Hand did it, it wasn’t me”.

I wish I could use that excuse now…


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