Mr. Nobody

While commenting on Mother Hen's blog, I mentioned that I couldn't decide between "Not Me", and "I don't know" as the two culprits who must be behind the dishes that keep mysteriously showing up in the garage (not to mention a host of other things).  Mother Hen made the comment that it couldn't be "Not Me", because he lived at her house, and another commenter said that "I don't know" lived at her's.  It all put me in mind of a little poem I came across some years ago, and I wanted to share.

I know a funny little man,

As quiet as a mouse,

Who does the mischief that is done

In everybody's house!

There's no one ever sees his face,

And yet we all agree

That every plate we break was cracked

By Mr. Nobody

'Tis he who always tears our books,

Who leaves the door ajar,

He pulls the buttons from our shirts,

And scatters pins afar;

That squeaking door will always squeak,

For, prithee, don't you see,

We leave the oiling to be done

By Mr. Nobody

The finger marks upon the door

By none of us are made;

We never leave the blinds unclosed,

To let the curtains fade.

The ink we never spill; the boots

That lying round you see

Are not our boots - they all belong

To Mr. Nobody

All of us have those types of permanent house guests in our home.  In addition to "Not Me" and "I don't know", "I didn't do it!" weighs in heavily as a potential trouble maker around here.  His name is usually the one shouted at the tops of everyone's lungs right after we hear a big crash. 

As a side note - when she was very young (say 3 or 4), Beenie's standard answer when you ask her anything was, "I know nothing".  I used to accuse hubby of watching Hogan's Heroes re-runs with her in the room.  Of course, he didn't - as he pointed out, the re-runs didn't come on until late in the evening, but I could just hear Schultz in my head every time she did that.

Becky