WHO DROPPED THE KNIFE IN THE MUSTARD JAR?  

All he lacked was the beat- up raincoat and the slouching, shuffling gait. He didn’t actually squint but the general demeanor was the same.

"For the last time, I’m asking you, ‘Who dropped the knife in the mustard jar?’"

Silence.

"Nobody leaves this table until the person who did it confesses."

Sighs of resignation from the disheveled crew sitting at the kitchen table. We were in this for the long haul.

My husband Sam and I had gone to a wedding, leaving our seven children with a new baby sitter. The kids ranged in ages from one to eleven. Usually they behaved well for a sitter but when we arrived home a little earlier than expected, it was apparent that such had not been the case this time.

The house, which always looked lived-in, was now a disaster area. Dishes piled all over the kitchen, toys scattered everywhere, muddy tracks on the floors, muddy tracks on the kids. And sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, amidst the remnants of lunch, a table knife laden with yellow and a broken jar of mustard. Sam focused on that, for some unknown reason.

It started innocently enough. An inquiry as to how the jar had gotten broken.

"I dunno," echoed around the room.

Sam persisted.

"Someone knows. Who dropped the knife in the mustard jar?"

Silence. Squirms. I started to pick up the broken glass.

"Leave it there," Sam said.

"Why?" I asked.

"Just leave it. Now, I want the person who did it to tell me."

More silence. Sam studied the scene, looking for clues. He was really getting into this!

"Tell me again about lunch," he said, looking for discrepancies in their stories.

The kids looked at each other and wiggled in their seats.

The oldest, Mary, finally said, "We just sat down and the baby sitter put the stuff on the table and we fixed our sandwiches."

"Who fixed the sandwiches?"

"We girls fixed our own and the sitter fixed the boys," said Teresa.

"AH!" said Sam, a gleam in his eyes, the trail getting hotter.

"Who was the last one to use the mustard?"

"I dunno," came the chorus.

"Think!" said the detective.

They sat there and thought.

It was a long afternoon. We never did find out who dropped the knife in the mustard jar but the kids, now adults, occasionally giggle about the incident when they get together.

It’s part of the dumb stuff that holds families together.