Today I’m linking up with Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop. The prompt I chose was: Write a post about an argument you recently had with someone from the moment of conflict to the moment of resolution in 15 lines or less.
A faint jingle of Poochie-Bells coming from the front door interrupted the tension of a scary movie DW and I were watching in our bedroom upstairs.
Everyone but The Tortoise was upstairs, and Luna was begging to be let outside to potty.
“You’re the only one down there,” I shouted, “can’t you stop your show and let her out?”
My question was answered with silence, but luckily there was only a few minutes left of our movie.
“Why couldn’t you let the dog out?” I questioned walking into the family room just as The Tortoise fumbled frantically with the remote control, freezing her show in mid-stream.
She stood up in a panic, tossing the remote on the couch, “Because I just couldn’t, OK? I was having trouble with Netflix and couldn’t get it to pause.”
“Please go take the dog out,” I said curtly, knowing that even if she couldn’t pause the show, she most certainly could have rewound it when she came back inside.
The Tortoise rolled her eyes, sighing loudly, grabbed the dog then headed outside.
DW followed her out the front door.
A few minutes later they were both standing at the kitchen counter, demanding my attention.
“She has something she needs to tell you,” grumbled DW, openly disappointed, only I wasn’t sure if it was me or her that he had the grievance.
I stood waiting, watching my daughter’s fingers nervously flex, her eyes staring at the floor, pouting.
“I lied to you about the TV,” she mumbled, “I just didn’t feel like taking the dog out and wanted to watch my show uninterrupted.”
“And you weren’t even going to question her story,” DW added, keeping us accountable.
Deep down, I probably knew she had lied, but sometimes parenting can be so exhausting, requiring more of me than I want to give, and now I was forced to take action; because a lie is a lie, no matter how small.