Photo: Kozzi.com

Meg Wismer 

It was this way before she stayed with us (incase you don't know, Leigh has gone to South Africa on vacation and left me with her children). The kids always seem to blame Stella for every little thing that goes wrong around here. All of them do it. This is how it went down at breakfast the other day: 

Billie: Mom, my finger is sore. 
Me: Why is it sore? 
Billie: Stella scratched it. She slapped my face and my bum. She's bad. 

A few minutes later I noticed there was ripped paper on the floor. I asked who did it and to clean it up. 

Billie: Stella did it. 
Me: No she didn't 
Billie. Stella isn't even here. 
Kai: No, I did it. 
Billie: Oh. Kai, you're bad. 

That evening I was reading a book to them, the last page was ripped out. 

Me: Who ripped this book?
Billie: Stella did it. 
Me: Billie, Stella doesn't do all the bad stuff around here. 
Billie: Yes. She's bad. She hit my head. Any ripped book in this house is blamed on Stella. 

I have started to ask them really random stuff now, like "Who left the barbecue cover off?" Guess what? It's always Stella. Now that she is staying with us, I realize why they use her so frequently as their scapegoat. Last night my husband asked me "How did dinner get so burnt?" I responded: "Stella did it."