Page 101 of Dial L for Lawyer
The front door barely clicks shut before Michaela whips out a manila folder and shoves it under Serena's nose.
"So the witch—her name is Gladys—she built this house entirely out of gingerbread and candy canes," Michaela explains, pointing to her surprisingly detailed legal notes written in redcrayon. "But she didn't file for building permits, AND she used it to lure children, which is definitely entrapment."
"Entrapment is when law enforcement induces someone to commit a crime," I correct automatically.
"I know that," Michaela says with exaggerated patience. "But in fairy tale law, it applies to candy houses too. I asked Grandma."
"Your grandmother's a pediatrician, not a lawyer."
"She watches Law & Order."
Serena's shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. "What's the witch's defense?"
Michaela's eyes light up. "That's the best part! She says the house is art, not architecture, so it doesn't need permits. And the children were trespassing when they started eating her walls."
"Strong argument," Serena says seriously. "What's your counter?"
For the next twenty minutes, my seven-and-three-quarters-year-old niece walks Serena through her entire prosecution strategy, complete with witness testimony from the three little pigs because, "They know about building codes.” And expert analysis from the Big Bad Wolf since, "He's reformed now and works in insurance."
Serena asks questions, listens to strategies, and treats the whole thing like an actual case. When Michaela practices her closing statement—complete with dramatic pauses and finger-pointing—Serena applauds.
"That was amazing," she says. "The witch doesn't stand a chance."
"I know." Michaela beams. "Uncle Caleb, your girlfriend is smart."
"I noticed."
"Is that why you like her? Dad says you have a thing for women who are too smart to take your bull-poop—I’m not allowed to say the ‘S’ word."
"Hmm. Sounds like your dad talks too much."
"Yeah. In his sleep too. I heard him telling Grandma that you're emotionally constipated and that's why you're still single."
"Michaela."
"What? I don't even know what that means. Is it about poop too?"
Serena loses it, doubling over with laughter. Michaela looks pleased with herself.
"OK, prosecutor Kingsley," I say, steering us toward safer ground. "What do you want on your pizza?"
"Pepperoni and mushrooms. But not touching. They have to be on separate sides."
"Why?"
"Because they're in different food groups, obviously."
I call in the order while Serena helps Michaela set up her 'courtroom' in the living room, which apparently involves arranging all her stuffed animals as jury members.
"Mr. Fluffington is the foreman," Michaela explains seriously. "He's very fair but strict."
"What about this one?" Serena holds up a bedraggled teddy bear.
"That's Exhibit A. He got partially eaten by the defendant's dog, which proves the candy house is an attractive nuisance."
"You know about attractive nuisance doctrine?" I ask.
"Duh. You taught me when I wanted to build a treehouse at Lake Forest last summer."
