Yesterday, I dropped The Caterpillar off at pre-school and there was a note in her cubby addressed to me.  I picked it up and jokingly wagged my finger at The Caterpillar with a smile on my face.

"Is this a note from your teacher about you?"

She froze like a deer in the middle of the road as you barrel toward it at midnight with headlights blaring and horn honking. 

"Am I gonna open this up and find out you've done something bad?"

I was about to laugh and hug her goodbye when every bad thing she'd ever done in her four years on Earth started spilling out of her mouth in a Faulkner-like diatribe.   

"I sneaked some food when the teacher wasn't looking and I told my friend to go away and I said I didn't want to play to Sheila when I really did want to play, I just didn't want to play with Sheila and I called Jasper mean and...."

I had to stop her because as much as I would have loved to have heard the rest of her confession, it was getting late and I wanted to get to work before the sun set.  Plus I wanted to get my application in at the police department.