Confession

"It is the confession,

not the priest,

that gives us

absolution."

Oscar Wilde (1854-1900) Irish poet and dramatist.

They say confession is good for the soul. It cleans the inner vessel and prepares us to meet our maker. If this is the case, then all of us at the Rancho are well on our way to sainthood.

It all began when one of the kids blurted out that she had been paid $10 to do a friend's homework. The poor child just couldn't handle the guilt any longer. This tearful confession left such an impression on the rest of the Rancho that suddenly confessions where coming out of nowhere:


It was me who broke the front doorknob.

I didn't forget to feed the cats; I just didn't want to.

I spit in my brother's milk before giving it to him.

I told the boys to fill the living room with water.

And so, in light of the situation I feel that there are some things that I, too, must confess. (Now, this is the only time you will ever see these things in writing, and if you ask me I will vehemently deny every word.)

One time I completely forgot to feed my kids.

I went the whole day and just

forgot to feed them.

Then there was the time I accidentally grabbed the tube of Icy Hot 
muscle rub  instead of Desitan diaper rash medicine.

I did learn, however, that Burn Free burn

cream is definitely all they claim it to be.

Sometimes my kids sleep in their clothes

because this makes it easier to get them ready

for daycare the next morning.

When my husband is away on business trips

the kids and I eat only cold cereal.

And the reason that the new phone doesn’t

work is because it fell in the toilet.

There! Having made my confessions, I can now get back to playing on my Facebook.