It was a cold crisp day in December 2005. I didn't know it yet, but inside our sleepy little house, the beginnings of a Christmas mystery was afoot. In spite of the busy weeks prior, our Christmas tree was up and decorated, garlands festooned the house, and the first batch of Christmas cookies had been baked, much to the delight of three-year-old Jacqui. Aside from last minute shopping and the wrapping of presents, all that remained of the Christmas check-list was to put the lights up outside the house.

Now in most households, the outdoor lights are a guy thing. You know, voltage, power cords... the macho side of Christmas. Yeah, well not at our house. Christmas lights just aren't Ken's thing... I'm really not sure why. All I know is that if I start mentioning that it's time to put up the Christmas lights, I'm suddenly the only one in the room. And, since I can't imagine a Christmas without Christmas lights, out into the wet December chill I trudge without fail.

This dubious tradition suddenly became a challenge however, at the onset of Jacqui's toddler-hood. Nap times were never long enough, and there was no way to keep her out of the enticing tangles of green power cords while she was awake. After three days of attempting to get them put up during her 45-minute-if-I-was-lucky nap time, I was getting no where fast. On day four, the weather man claimed that monsoons were in the forecast and I worked frantically to get the rest of them in place while Jacqui napped. All too soon though, Jacqui was awake. Not with your typical post-nap whimper, but a clamoring of static through the baby monitor as chubby fingers grappled with the speaker, "...Hey! Heyyyyyyy!!! I no sleepy no more!! Hey! Mommmmmmmy! You heered me? I no sleepy no more! Heyyyyyyy!!"

I looked around at the last loops of unstrung lights at my feet and knew I had a good ten minutes of work left to do... there would be no way she would wait that long. Back inside I trudged and freed the little inmate from her crib. She squealed out into the living room, still enamored with the lights of the Christmas tree right near our big living room windows. And then I had an idea...

"Jacqui, how would you like to wave at Mommy through the window while she puts the rest of the lights up?"

"Yay! Christmas lights! OK, Mommy!!" She clapped her hands in anticipation.

"OK, you stand right here and watch Mommy out the window..."

I slipped out the front door and Jacqui stood waving, smiling and tapping on the window. I began looping the remaining end of the light string into the little green stakes intended to edge the walk leading up to the path, stuck a few in place and then peeked back at the window. Jacqui was still there, peering out at the lights with a giant grin. Click, click, click... a few more in place... check the window.... yep, a grinning little three-year-old still plastered to the sill. And on it went, with me putting a few lights in place then stopping to wave at Jacqui as she watched. Finally, I clicked the last strand in it's place and turned on the lights in all their glowing, twinkling Christmas glory. I turned and waved at Jacqui. She was in the midst of making slobber faces on the window when the lights turned on and she stopped for a full moment of stunned silence before clapping and cheering with glee.

I trudged up the walk, removed my boots and opened the door. Before I could quite put my finger on what was wrong, Jacqui bellowed "Oh Noooooo!!!!! Mommy's home!!!!" She then charged blindly down the hallway as fast as her pattering tiny feet could carry her.

"Jacqui?" I called after her, looking apprehensively around the room, trying to determine what the fuss was all about. "Jacqui, come back here right now and talk to Mommy..."

She peeked out of her room, one eye and two tiny fingers trying to blend into the doorjamb. "Jacqui..." She trudged down the hall, head hanging low. "Jacqui, what did you do?"

She looked up at me, her eyes wide with fright. "Oh, Mommy! So very many noddy fings!"

I rubbed my temples, "Like what?"

She reached up and grabbed my hand and began tugging me down the hall into the living room. In the tone of an over-anxious real estate agent she said, "Well, let's go see..."

First stop on the tour of horrors: She led me behind the tree next to the window where she had appeared to be standing during the entire 10 minutes that I was outside. She pointed to the wall where I could see very odd, sticky looking pink substance smeared in decorative, almost festive patterns. It was sparkley too, and familiar, although I couldn't quite place it.

"I did feen-der pain-ings on da wall wif toof-paste, Mommy. Dat was very noddy of me, huh?"

I sighed wondering again for the millionth time what posessed the previous owners of our home to paint the entire interior in flat paint. No way that the paint would out-last the toothpaste in the scrubbing that wall was going to require. "Yes, Jacqui. Very naughty."

She looped her hand up through my arm and tugged me toward the center of the living room. Great. There was more. She pointed at the couch. The white and blue striped couch. I wondered for the millionth time what had ever posessed me to think that white was a good color for anything - ever. Spattered all over the couch were reddish splotches. I pinched the bridge of my nose as the explanation began.

"... An' over dair on da couch I dump-ded my juice box all noh-ver da place. Dat was very noddy too!"

"Yes. Yes it was. Why were you being so naughty?"

"I jess don't know, Mommy. Dis way, Mommy..." I was being pulled to the dining room. What more could the kid have possibly done as she grinned at me through the window? I didn't have to wonder long. There on the carpet in front of the sliding glass door a whole bag each of birdseed and peanuts had been dumped and scattered. I had set the bags on the counter to go fill the feeders while Jacqui had been napping and had forgotten about them.

"I tried to feed da skurl, Mommy. He was so very hon-gery, but da door was lock-ded and I drop-ded da skurl and birdie food all over da floor! Am I very noddy?"

"Oh, Jacqui... You know you're not supposed to try and open the door! Yes, you have been very naughty and you're going to have to help me clean all these messes up."

"Ok, Mommy. I will help. Can I help fix da norny-ments too?"

"What ornaments?"

"Da ones dat I broke-ded."

"How many did you break?"

She tapped a finger to her chin as her mischievous little eyes sparkled. "Hmmm... I don't a-member. Wet's go count 'em!"

Again I was tugged across the room to yet another disaster zone. There, neatly lined up on the coffee table lay the hapless victims...

Jacqui cleared her little throat and then with a dimpled little pointy finger began counting off the casualties... "One... feee... seben... lebbenty-two... FIVE!!" And so there were. Five broken Christmas ornaments, all fixable, except one filigree metal ball that seemed to be in need of an elfin-sized welder. "Um... Jacqui... One of them is missing the head."

Her eyes widened importantly as she looked up at me nodding solemnly. "Yes, I know dat. Dat's da cowboy norny-ment, Mommy."

It was a clown, but whatever. She wanted to call it a cowboy, then it was a cowboy. Cowboy or clown, it was still minus a noggin. "So where is it?"

"Where's wat?"

"The head."

"Oh. Itsa miss-ery."

"A what?"

"A miss-ery Mom. You not heered me?"

"I heard you. What do you mean, 'It's a mystery'?"

"Dat means you gotta figgure it out like a teck-tive."

"How about I figure it out like a policeman instead?"

She grinned, glad that I was playing along. I picked her up and set her on the couch and stared her down. She didn't blink. "Ok. Here's how policemen solve mysteries... Jacqui, tell me right now what you did with the clown's head or you're going back in your room for another nap."

Not even a flinch. She grinned at me. "You forgetted, Mommy. Itsa cowboy, not a clown!"

"Ok, tell me where the cowboy head is or you get another nap."

"Hmmm... we gotta be very good teck-tives and fink about where it could be..." She crinkled up her nose and tapped her head as she thought. "Oh! It might be under da Christmas tree..."

We looked under the tree. No clown head. "Oh! it might be a-hind da couch!"

We pulled out the couch. Lots of fun things were back there... hair bows, bouncy balls, miscellaneous crackers and cheerios... no clown head though. "Guess again Holmes."

"Who's Homes?"

"Never mind. Tell me where the clown head is."

"Cowboy head, Mommy!"

"Fine. Cowboy head. Where is the cowboy head, Jacqui?"

"It is a very good miss-ery, isn't it?"

So it was. She certainly had me stumped. "Ok, I give up. Where is it?"

"Oh, Mommy! We don't ebber say dat, 'member? We don't say 'I give up', we say 'I can do any-fing wif pwactice!' Member?"

I went a few more rounds with the mini Agatha Christie and then resorted to the nap threat. No use. Even after a long nap, the kid wasn't talking. I began to wonder if she even knew where it was.

"Did you lose the clown head, Jacqui?"

"Cowboy!"

"Cowboy. Did you lose the cowboy head?"

Didn't matter the question, the answer was always the same... "Itsa miss-ery!"

I searched while vacuuming, while taking down the tree, while packing the ornaments away. The clown head was no where to be found. Eventually I packed away the mystery of the head-less Christmas clown with the rest of the Christmas trappings.

For a whole year, no one thought of the poor headless Christmas clown and the injustices of Christmas past. And then, once again it was Christmas. Out came the ornaments and decorations while a gleeful four-year-old and her new baby brother watched with excitement.

First out of the boxes came the Fisher Price Nativity set... The stable, the palm trees, the wisemen, the shepherds and their sheep, Joseph, Mary and her baby, the manger...

Why did the manger rattle?? Had it always rattled? My fingers searched along the seam where the plastic hay met the plastic trough. Suddenly, it gave way and open it popped... out rolled the missing clown head.

"Mommy! You figgered out da miss-ery! Wat a very good teck-tive you are!"

A whole year later and those were the first words out of her sealed little lips. As I glued the head back in place, I muttered to myself about how very long it was going to be before Jacqui would ever be entrusted with her first Nancy Drew novel.

"You funny, Mommy! Dat cowboy's name izzin't Nancy! It's Bob!"

And so the Christmas mystery was solved. Bob, the cowboy clown, got his head back and was returned to his spot on the tree, although to this day he remains very puzzled as to why he's wearing a dress. The best part? Ken put up the Christmas lights that year. I insisted.