I think something is wrong with Mom. One minute, she was furious at us, and the next minute, she actually let it drop. She just gave up. No confession. No punishment. Nothing. And then she took us out to dinner. It must be a trick.

Tonight was Mom and Dad's anniversary. They had this big fancy evening out planned, but Mom never made it to the restaurant. She found her new, red dress burnt and shoved in the toilet. She went into full interrogation mode--separate interviews, dizzy izzies, standing in the corner--but no one would confess. We still don't know who did it, though fire is a Reese staple. Then again, only Dewey is stupid enough to leave evidence somewhere Mom can find it. Anyway, the point is we weren't getting anywhere and we needed help. Only one person had ever made Mom that angry before: Francis. We managed to secretly call him. He told us it didn't matter who burned the dress; we all had to hang together. And it was actually working, until Mom caught us on the phone. We thought we were dead, but then Mom had mercy on us. I think she must be sick.

While we were in lockup, Reese asked me if I'm just going to get smarter and smarter and weirder and weirder. I don't know. Am I?