Recently, our family solved a mystery.

In preparation for Thanksgiving, I had purchased three bottles of sparkling cider (a family tradition for the big celebration), and while bringing in the groceries, one of the bottles fell and broke.

The morning before turkey day, I woke up to find one of the remaining bottles sitting by the fridge, opened, partially empty.

As I asked the children if they had opened the bottle, all claimed innocence and ignorance. For some reason, hearing "I dunno, wasn't me" repeated over and over put me over the edge.

Suddenly, it was as if a fast rewinding of history of similar moments went through my brain, moments when something that I needed/ used/liked/thought was vitally important was suddenly destroyed/opened/ used/gone. And then it happened. I decided to follow through.

Rather than push for an answer, then lecture not to touch what isn't yours, blah, blah, blah, I said that the bottle didn't matter so much as the principle.

I calmly stated that this kind of behavior of just taking or using or eating whatever was spontaneously desired needed to stop. In order to do that, I needed to know who it was that had opened the bottle.

Still no one confessed. I then announced that everyone would sit at the table until the person who had opened the bottle admitted it. Then I peacefully went about tidying the house.

While cleaning, I did what any good parent would do and eavesdropped on the kids, which was highly instructive. Each shared why they could or could not have done it. Like something out of an Agatha Christie novel, they began eliminating, BY THEMSELVES, who could have done it. A few times I was summoned to note that they had agreed to eliminate certain people from suspicion. The discussion moved from the table to another room as they began to fold laundry (I figured they may as well multitask while sleuthing).

Ultimately, it came down to two people, well-known for past similar behaviors. Now at this point, I was caught up in the criminal investigation and seriously could not determine who it was.

My suspicion was with the elder brother, but the bottle wasn't emptied and hidden, which did not fit his profile. The younger son didn't have an outstanding history of such acts, but then, we did nickname him "Stealth" because he is always the first to disappear when any form of work is required.

Time was ticking and the field was narrowing. You could feel the peer pressure in the room as the children continued to analyze each story and response. The tension reached it's ironic and tragic apex: The eldest son in question had a project to complete and had mixed plaster for it just before the "inquiry" began.