It is winter, which means we spend a lot of time in our basement where it is warmer and less drafty than our family room. I, especially, tend to head down there in the evenings to watch TV, read, and relax after the girls have gone to bed.
Recently M. let me know she was keeping tabs on me.
“Dad, I know what you do in the basement at night,” she said, cheerfully but with a hint of accusation.
I gave her a surprised look, because I pretty much sit on my ass like an old man.
“What is it you think I do down there?”
“You drink beer! I’ve seen the empty bottles on the bar. You can’t hide it from me, Dad!”
She was awfully proud of herself. I suppose I should clean up after myself better if I want to keep any secrets around here.