I caught you red-handed and I thoroughly enjoyed the exchange. Maybe you thought, after all the delay it took to make it into your room, that you were in the clear.
I wouldn’t blame you.
But I heard the clicking for a good minute or two. I heard no squealing from you so my curiosity was piqued. When I walked in to find your hand gripping at your mobile with no intention of relinquishing, I couldn’t help but smile.
Then, things got better.
You looked over at me and smiled. Big. Wide. Like you do better than anyone in the history of the world. And my heart melted, but I was in conflict. Because you hadn’t let go of the mobile yet! What I thought was a smile was actually an admission of guilt, blended with a refusal to concede to releasing the mobile back into its circling routine we were so used to.
Yup. You sound like ours. And we love you like hell for it. Even though we all know that you were squarely busted.