The Blame Game

Posted by: , October 17, 2008 in 12:33 pm

The other night  I was watching Desperate Housewives and there was a scene where a character  (Lynette) is tired of her husband’s playing guitar with his buddy.  She proceeds to place it in a spot in the garage where his car would run over it by mistake.  Leaving a little dollie next to the guitar she cleverly frames her young daughter.  I laughed aloud because I myself have done the old “blame it on the kid” routine.

Just last week my husband complained the bed wasn’t made and I told him the kids messed it up.  For some reason, my husband is obsessed with our bed being made every day.  I have told him many times then he should be the one to make it but as he wisely points out, he gets up before me and is out of the house while I’m still sleeping.  How can he make the bed if I’m in it?  Logical.  But still, I hate making the bed.  Anyway, I digress…  Luckily, my son wasn’t around when I blamed the unmade bed on him.  This would not be something my husband would follow up on (he’s not that insane) so I was safe.  It was a little white lie, which isn’t necessarily out of the realm of possibility.  Both my boys are always jumping on our bed!

Yesterday, we had a play date scheduled that I didn’t feel like going to so I told the mom my son was exhausted and not up for it.  In reality it was me who wasn’t up for it.  The mother is one of those sanctimommies.  You know the kind.  Her kid only eats organic.  He’s not allowed juice.  She won’t let him go up too high on the jungle gym.  Working mothers are in an unfortunate situation.  I could go on and on.  Rather, she could go on and on.  The point is, I would have preferred drinking Drano then spending the afternoon with her.  Why did I schedule a playdate with her to begin with, you ask?  My son really likes her son.  But when I saw her in the afternoon with her “going to the park” bag – equipped with baggies of nutritional treats and safe activities,  I didn’t have it in me.  I wanted out.  And it’s just a lot easier to blame it on your child, especially when it’s so benign that it will have no effect on them.  What they don’t know won’t hurt them!  All I needed to say was, “I think he might be coming down with something…” and that was it.  She whisked away her “germ sensitive” son and jumped in her hybrid car.  Sometimes the blame game is a good thing.




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