In which I doubt myself

Trudi looked out the window and asked, how did all those pegs get into the gully trap? You shouldn't let the girls play there; there are spiders.

I looked out the window and agreed that the gully trap was not the place for them to be playing, but they had not been there today. My, what a lot of pegs are in the gully trap!

Trudi looked at me and asserted that they must have, because how else could those pegs have got there? The girls are avid peg-users.

I averred that no indeed, they girls had not been in the back yard that day. I had gone out to hang washing, but Hazel came no further than the deck, and Ivy stayed inside.

Trudi's face was sceptical. Perhaps you put the pegs in the gully trap, she suggested.

Hm. I paused for thought. Hmmmm. Nope, I don't believe I went outside and put a lot of pegs in the gully trap. I think I would remember doing that.

Well it must have been the girls then. How did they manage it? They can't carry the peg basket yet, so they must have done it peg by peg. Carried each peg around, dumped it, and come back for another one. That would have taken a long time. Surely you would have noticed if they were off doing that.

Hmmm. Maybe I had a fugue state and put the pegs in the gully trap and then forgot that I did it. I have had some tough nights with not much sleep: who knows what dastardly deeds I am capable of?

And there we left the peg issue, unresolved.

Later, Trudi stood at the back window, and said Hey I know


And it popped into my head at the same time.

The girls had dragged the peg basket across the dining room, and posted pegs out of the cat-flap. They fell down into the waiting gully trap. It must have been a lot of fun.

I feel that there should be some moral to this story. I should have a pithy learning that I can deliver to you, about the folly of doubting oneself, or the grandeur of childish invention. Perhaps you could supply one for me, because I am all out of pithy learnings today.