Crumbs, chief.
When I was about 8, I had made a mess under the table with cake crumbs. Luckily, no-one else had seen them, so all I had to do was make it through the rest of tea and no-one would be any the wiser.

I was asked to get some milk from the fridge, which was in the utility room, which also housed all the floor mops, cleaning gear, and canned soup.

While I was in there, my Dad shouted through "Can you bring the floorer?" This I took as a request to bring a floor mop to clear up the crumbs.

Cue tantrum - "I'm not clearing it up! It wasn't my fault! It was my sister! Mum can do it!" - much to my father's complete bewilderment as he was just asking for Flora margarine.
( Amish Information Systems hates misplaced, commas, Tue 24 Jul 2012, 16:41, Reply)