It looked like a police lineup for little kids. Three sisters, ages nine, five and almost four, and one pacing adult. Jaw clenched, voice barely controlled, the adult says, “You don’t seem to understand how dangerous this is. Who did this?” Silence. “Better to admit it.” Not a sound. “OK, one last chance to confess or you’ll all suffer the consequences.” Still nothing. Eyes narrowed, my father points at the youngest, asks the eldest (me), “Would you have me believe that baby was smoking in the basement?” Painful silence. Suddenly, a small, shaky sound from that baby. “It was me.”
Rosemarie Konrath lives with her family and dog Sheba in Columbus, Ohio. Find Rosemarie on Twitter @Columbus962.