This is a true story.
Or, rather, it’s true insomuch as I wasn’t there, and I heard it third hand, so I’m going to embellish a little on the unimportant parts. Why? Because it makes me feel important. I am the creator of this story.
Although, technically I’m not. The creator of this story, the instigator of this inspiring tale of relief, the mastermind behind all the knowing is none other than my 1-year-old niece, Holly Ann.
Thursday night, my sister, Lindsay, called me to tell me the story about Holly Ann and the Not-So-Terrible Dishwasher Detergent.
It goes a little something like this:
Last Wednesday night, as I was watering my two prize-winning, Volkswagon-sized basil plants (I told you I would embellish … my basil, while still alive, is more the size of a shoe), the phone rang and I didn’t answer.
This part is true. I did not answer the first time. Don’t judge me.
Anyway, the second time she called, I did answer. Yay me.
“Leslie,” my sister said, “My daughter, your niece, Holly Ann, ate dishwasher detergent tonight.”