Pinched Brownies

When I was a boy, I'd pick at the edges of my mom's pan of fresh brownies.  Just a pinch mind you, no great harm in that, to my boys reasoning mind.  Of course, every time I'd have an errand that took me through the kitchen, (and there were suddenly plenty of them) well, I'd have another small sample.

   "What could it hurt? It'd just an itsy-bitsy crumb of a piece." 

  By the time my mom got home from work a good third of the pan had been consumed.  Its ragged edges gave clear evidence that there had been many pirate attacks on the booty. Of course stirred to ire, she'd launch into the investigation to discern which of her progeny were so despicable as to have performed such a dastardly crime against common decency.  There and then contemplate ending the existence of whoever it was.  Yup, funny thing about parents thinking they possess that right, just because they brought you into the world they figured they could end the visit.  It didn't take long to find the culprit, even when all of us protested accusation, or successfully employed the innocent blinking-Bambi eyes that transmitted unwarranted suspicion. 

   "Not me mama" we replied in unison to the inquisition.

  Using as we did the only shield of the defenseless ~ convincing half truths.  To this day I think all of us were doing the same thing.  There is no way my little gut could have consumed that much brownie and not notice by upset.  It wasn't until she invoked the great threat of 'our father' taking up this investigation that I had to step forward and take one for the team.  I still didn't think why all the fuss? I had done nothing…really…I  just fell prey to my natural curious nature to see if the brownies continued to taste as good each time I passed. It was more like gathering more evidence to persuade a conclusion....what?

Yes, I was punished, not the least being no more brownie of me. 

Yes, I felt put upon and unjustly punished.  How could I, a freedom loving boy whose only purpose on earth was to appreciate, and yes visit, beauty, be scolded for his adoration?  Parents don't understand a thing!

   It turned out ok, my sisters smuggled brownies into me while in my banishment from social congress with the family.  Then mom as well brought me some into my room purgatory later; with a glass of milk.  Feeling a bit guilty I suppose for her passionate exile of me from the family. Of course they came with a soft sell lecture on the merits of being honest.  All and all, when I  add it up, I got a larger share of brownies than if I had done nothing.  Life rewards the bold don’t you think?