‘It’s not my fault’, he shouted in front of everyone when my son Jason had a fight with his best friend James. Someone had dropped glue on their assignment for which they had worked hard for almost a month. I got a sense of déjà vu when I heard ‘It’s not my fault’.
I remembered the incident at the Lakeside Camp long time ago. My best friend Ross and I were asked to light a fire while the others went to collect firewood. We had a lighter and we started arguing about who would get to use it. In the scuffle, the lighter bounced off my hand and fell into the lake. When we were asked about it, Ross shouted aloud, ‘It’s not my fault’ and put the entire blame on me. I hated Ross for that we never talked again. I lost a precious friend.
I feared that Jason would also lose a friend and so, for the sake of their friendship, I said that I had spilled the glue by mistake. Both James and my son hated me for a while but everything was fine after two-three days. I had saved their friendship and that was what I felt happy about.
