Bingeing blame

A few years ago, a friend who had to attend a work party asked me if I would mind taking care of her children for the night. I gladly said yes, unaware of what I was getting myself into. Her two children, aged nine and seven, turned out to be real horrors and I had to endure several hours of hell with two spoilt brats.

However, it was their bedtime soon enough and before I knew it, I was lounging in peace. Time began to pass more slowly, though, and it wasn’t long before I began scavenging through their pantry in search of something to pleasure my taste buds. And there it was, sitting on the second shelf, a large box of ‘Celebrations’.

I knew my friend would not mind if I helped myself to one. So I did. But to my regret, I had underestimated my self-control and a few hours later, having eaten so many, I thought I may as well finish the box. It wasn’t until after I’d finished that I realised the consequence of my actions.

I was too embarrassed to own up to eating an entire family-size box of chocolates, so my thoughts immediately went to how I would get away with it … and then it hit me. I grabbed the empty box, filled it with the wrappers and snuck into the children’s room.

I planted it right next to the daughter’s bed and planted some wrappers in her drawer for further conviction.