Kallan is incensed, “Why don’t you ever believe me? I didn’t do anything, Mom! Maj is making stuff up to get me in trouble! You know she’s a troublemaker, and you know she lies about me all . . . the . . . time.”
“There are actually a few reasons I don’t believe you, Kallan.”
“AUGH! Do you know how hard it is to live in this house when I am doubted every time I say something? Maj is just mad because she got in trouble, and you made her clean up the mess my friend and I made in the bathroom . . .”
“I made Maj clean up the mess because she was screaming and overreacting, and I thought the mess you and your friend made was a regular-sized mess.”
“It was a regular-sized mess, Mom!”
“Yeah, I don’t think so. I think it was a spectacular mess.”
Kallan’s face goes all stubborn, “Maj lies.”
I lean back against the kitchen counter, “Three reasons I don’t believe your version, Kallan. Three.”
“Whatever, Mom. Count them off and know that you are killing my spirit with every little stab of disbelief.”
I hold up a finger, “First, I heard you and your friend bragging the other day about being the best liars in the world.”
“WHAT? We said no such thing!”
“Yes. Yes, you did. I was right there listening.”
“That conversation was not intended for you, Mom! That was a private conversation!”
“Kallan, I was driving you and your friend home from school. We’re all in the car together. Not a good moment to have a private gloating conversation about how you are able to get away with things because of your lying skills.”
Kallan glares at me, “Well, aren’t you just all heary?”
I hold up a second finger, “And then there is the issue of the giant heavy bag of sodden toilet paper your sister just hauled past me.”
Kallan stomps her foot, “She made that mess to get us in trouble! Maj made that mess! I don’t know what was in that garbage bag, but Maj is the one with the heavy wet guilt. Not me. Maj.”
I hold up a third finger, “And then there are the photos.”
Kallan freezes, “What photos?”
“Maj calls them crime-scene photos.”
“Ummm . . . well, obviously Maj took those photos after she made the mess.”
I shake my head, “Time-stamped, babe.”
“OK, well I could see where you might think that’s a little harder to explain.”
“I’m waiting.”
Kallan considers, “You have seen these photos?”
“I have.”
Kallan sinks her chin to her chest and looks up at me with Bambi-eyes, her lower lip pouted out, “Have you seen how cute I am lately? Hard to be angry with someone so cute.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Kallan deflates, “Fine.”
“So tell me what happened.”
Kallan take a seat at the counter and launches into her story, “OK, so my friend said she was bored and I said what do you want to do and she said she wanted to make poo.”
“This story is starting out very badly, Kallan.”
She giggles, “Not real poo, Mom. She wanted to make fake poo out of the cardboard inside of a roll of toilet paper . . . because it’s brown and when you get it really soggy and shape it correctly, it looks like poo.”
I raise my eyebrows, and she hurries to convince me, “It really does look like poo, Mom. We’ve done it before and it’s awesome.”
Sigh.
She goes on, “But we didn’t have any empty toilet paper rolls, only brand-new rolls, so we each started unrolling a new roll to get the cardboard middles.”
“Of course you did.”
Kallan avoids my eyes, “So all this toilet paper is unrolling and then we had the brilliant idea to shape some white poo out of the toilet paper. We filled the sink with water and started shoving in handfuls of toilet paper.”
“Of course you did.”
“And then we were scooping out handfuls of soggy toilet paper and squeezing it and putting the finished poo product on the floor.”
“Go on.”
“But then the floor was filled with so much toilet-paper poo that I slipped and almost fell, so I went and got some towels and we put all the soggy albino poos on the towels. We put more water in the sink and more toilet paper in the water and then we started sticking the poos anywhere they would stick. It was right in here somewhere that Maj knocked on the door and peeked in and started screaming like we had killed someone.”
“And . . .”
“We tried to hurry and color some of the poos brown with my markers, because we didn’t want all this work to be for nothing, but we could hear Maj telling on us like a crazy person, so we didn’t get much markering done.”
“Geez, Kallan.”
“OK, so at that point we figured it was about time for my friend to go home, and so we started flinging handfuls of soggy toilet paper into the toilet and then we got afraid we would clog the toilet so we threw a bunch of handfuls into the garbage can and it was just everywhere and the sink was maybe clogged up and then Maj showed up again bellowing about toilet justice, and so we scooped up as much albino poo as we could in the towels that were on the floor and we threw the towels in the bathtub.”
Kallan giggles, “It was pretty bad. But then a miracle happened! You got mad at Maj for screaming and overreacting, and you made her come up and clean the bathroom without coming up to look at it yourself! My friend and I were all high-fivey over that bit of awesomeness.”
I stare at Kallan.
“And then my friend went home all politely, and I came to tell you that Maj was a big fat liar, and that I was a poor innocent victim of her insanity.” Kallan slides her eyes away from my gaze, “I so did not think that Maj would think to get out her camera. I should have thought of that . . . not like Maj is just going to let this bit of toilet injustice go unreported.”
“Is that it?”
“Ummm . . . maybe there is a really awesome toilet-paper-roll poo in your bathroom on the side of the toilet seat.”
“Really, Kallan?”
“Wait until you see it, Mom. It is amazing. Brown and shapely. All that’s missing is the stink.”
Maj comes stomping through the room to catch this last sentence, “OH, THERE IS STINK . . . THE STINK OF GUILT AND THE STENCH OF LIES AND THE SMELL OF FALSE ACCUSATIONS! THERE IS STINK ENOUGH THAT SOMEONE IN THIS ROOM SHOULD BE CHOKING ON THE POISON GAS OF HER MISDEEDED SPEECH.”
Kallan tosses out a casual, “Sorry about the misunderstanding, Maj,” and turns and flees the room.
Maj stares at me.
I wave my hands in apologetic defense, “Alright, alright . . . I messed up. I’ll deal with her in a minute. Want to see something cool first?”
Maj is suspicious, but she follows me up to my bathroom. We stare together at the very realistic looking brown cardboard poo stuck to the side of the toilet seat. Maj stifles a giggle, “OK, I have to admit, that is pretty impressive.”
Kallan appears behind us, “Brown and shapely and perfect, right? I am a poo-artist!”
I turn to face her, “A lying poo con artist who is in a shitload of trouble.”
Maj snorts at my word choice.
Kallan sinks her chin to her chest and looks up at me with Bambi-eyes, her lower lip pouted out, “Have you seen how cute I am lately? Hard to punish someone so cute.”
I managed.
