"Little Cat" Did It?

Today's story is about a little boy and some little "untruths," otherwise known as lies.  When a certain one of our three boys was a wee little thing, I decided that I didn't want a house full of cave drawings with crayon and markers like I had seen in friend's homes where small children lived and reigned freely.  So, I was very careful to supervise all coloring book activities and kept the crayons and other marking devices like pens put away when not in use.

Uncle Byron and I were living in a rented house in the neighborhood of Fortaleza where we were working with a small church congregation.  Prior to this house we had lived in a different house for every year of our first term in Brazil.  Each of the other three places had belonged to missionaries on furlough and had furniture. (One even had a dog! Remember I wrote about the dog that ate poison a while back.)

This time we moved into an empty house and had to scrounge around rather quickly to get some furniture.  We did have a beautiful wooden crib that had belonged to quite a list of other MK children and Uncle Byron had fixed up and painted for William.  About the time we were moving, another missionary family was leaving the country.  We bought a living room set and bedroom set from them.  We got some other stuff from a different missionary who was selling some things to move interior.  All in all we ended up going from nothing to a full house in just a matter of days.

Our living room furniture was rattan or cane painted blue with white leatherette cushions.  I was very diligent to keep those cushions looking clean and fresh. So I noticed right away that something was wrong when I went to wipe them off and dust the living room one morning.  There were blue pen ink marks all over one of the cushions.  I went and showed Uncle Byron immediately. We both knew who the culprit was.

Uncle Byron called the little culprit to the scene of the crime.  He came rather innocently.  Byron asked him if he had any idea about who may have committed the horrible act.  The little fellow calmly and quickly replied that it must have been "Gatinho."   Gatinho was the name of our white, fluffy pet rabbit.  Yes, it was a rabbit named "Little Cat."  The little criminal at hand had named it after we got it.  We tried to explain to the boy that Gatinho meant cat not rabbit but he liked the name and it stuck.

Back to the interrogation... the son in trouble wasted no time in blaming a creature that had no means or notion of using a pen and no little fingers to do the nasty job.  Needless to say, he got what he deserved in accordance with the laws of the house and all coloring was put on probation for several weeks.

That is until about a month or so afterwards when mysterious multicolored drawings appeared on the bottom part of the living room wall.  Both I and Uncle Byron knew who to call in to question, the cat blamer!  When confronted with this new crime, the two year old young man knew that making the rabbit into a scape goat was not a good plan (since it didn't work with the couch).  He rapidly thought of a new plan.  He responded that it must have been his brother - his baby brother who did not yet walk and was sleeping quietly in his crib!  Yes, the little crook said,  "It musta been Dalton."

Dear Nephews - crime doesn't pay and your sins will always find you out and blaming others only makes the mess much worse - especially when you don't chose your scape goats too well.  Poor little William was punished again and I don't think he ever wrote on a wall again for the rest of his childhood.

from one of our albums and near the time of the story

Tell the truth.  Tell the truth. Tell the truth.

Uncle Byron and I have always told our boys when confronted with disobedience that going ahead and telling the truth is much better than trying to lie to get around it.  We rewarded our boys for telling the truth especially when they were in trouble and wanted so badly to lie.

Honest men are sought after in the world today as good men.  Be good men, and don't blame your rabbit or your baby brother when things get too hot to handle.  By the way, it should be noted that William did learn his lesson and is a pretty honest fellow these days.

Next week I'll tell more about the rabbit named Kitty Cat.