“Dad is like a dog when he does something wrong,” Ali declared this afternoon, claiming that when he knows he’s in the wrong, he tucks his head down and whines a little bit in the back of his throat.
“And,” she went on, he blames other people for doing it.”
We were in the car coming home from school/work and I was fretting about misplacing the actual fitbit part of my Fitbit wristband. I’d put it in the charger this morning and when I went to replace it in the wristband, it was gone from the charger. I looked all around the counter, in my purse (twice for some reason including again when I got to work.)
“I didn’t touch it,” said Ali.
“I found it on the floor by the bed,” Jeff said, according to Alison, his head was down and no eye contact was made.
I KNEW he’d picked it up off the floor and put it on my bookcase. It was from there that I’d picked it up to get it juiced up.
“Sometimes you lose it at night and it falls on the floor and I pick it up for you,” he explained, continuing to wax poetic about my fitbit foibles.
I resisted my “yeah, yeah, yeah, but did you really think it was YOUR fitbit charging in the kitchen, and did you help yourself to it?”
We were trying to get out the door to school/work and I decided to address it in the evening.
My rationale: "We need to get to work/school. My leg still hurts. Maybe this is the Universe telling me to give it a rest."
Everyone knows you can't exercise when you don't have your fitbit on. It's like none of that good work ever happened if it's not recorded.
"Besides," I reasoned. "I know where the damn fitbit is. It's wherever Jeff put it. I know where it wasn’t when I went to get it. Ali doesn’t wear a fitbit. My logic was irrefutable."
Fortunately I didn't voice my suspicions because this evening, foraging for food, as we discussed the fate of the fitbit and all the different ways Jeff could have snagged it and immediately forgotten he'd done so, Alison sang out: "Hey Mom. Found your fitbit. It fell into the fruit bowl."