Detective Dad and the Case of the Thermostat Tomfoolery
It’s been a few months since my last big case, the Cotton Candy Caper. This morning found me, Detective Dad, back at work. Unlike the Cotton Candy Caper where my client was a hot, pregnant dame, and the main suspect was a cute little ballerina, today’s shenanigans saw me taking on this case pro bono for the good of the whole family.
As usual the morning began with two hooligans running through the house making entirely too much noise. After various threats and imprecations, I was forced to arise from my necessary slumber to take control of the situation. I got out of bed, grabbed my computer and my mug of water, both of which are made of metal, and headed for the next room to start the day and crack down on the delinquents that live in my house. As I slipped quietly from my room letting the dame and bambino sleep I realized that the computer and mug were both frigid. Like, dead body at the bottom of the Hudson in January cold. Then I realized that the whole house was freezing cold.
I hadn’t noticed it during the night because I was under as much cover as possible, but everything had a Narnia during the reign of the White Witch feel to it. I checked the thermostat which was set at an unseasonably cool 58 degrees. My eyes bugged out, my heart skipped a beat, and my wallet went into hiding. 58 DEGREES! Great Caesar’s Ghost how had this happened?! Despite what people tell me at my other job I know that electronic objects don’t just change themselves, but who would have set the thermostat so low? A thermostat doesn’t just magically decide to turn a house into Lambeau Field in February for no reason.
If she was still pregnant the hot dame that I am related to by marriage would have been a suspect, but without the bun in the oven she wasn’t likely to have resorted to such extreme measures. I pondered the situation for a while thinking through the possibilities. Around mid-morning I was getting water for the three ruffians who seemed insistent on wreaking as much havoc as they could. The one we call the Zoologist decided he wanted to help me, and he showed me that he could almost reach the ice in the freezer. Eureka! A flash of inspiration struck and like Marshall Matt Dillon and your average Canadian Mountie I was sure I had my man.
I calmly asked the young Zoologist if he had been messing with the thermostat. I played it cool, like the good cop in every episode of Dragnet. He said that he had. I asked him why. He said, “Because I was cold, and I wanted it to get warmer.” Before reading him his rights I thought it wise to impart two pieces of advice to him. First, don’t ever touch the thermostat again. Second, you didn’t make it warmer, you turned our house into a polar bear habitat.* Rather than picking up on my admonitions the boy seemed more focused on exactly how did one make the house warmer at the thermostat.
Today’s case was solved, but I won’t be surprised if this doesn't turn into a serial felony.