Wha'd'Ido?

These are the words, or phrase, that I won't allow the kids at my school to say to me anymore: "Wha'd'Ido?" Or to be more precise: "What did I do?" These are generally spoken moments after I have made my way across a classroom or playground to speak to one of the little darlings about some minor maleficence, but one that requires some sort of adult interaction. Many of these interactions begin before I ever say a word. Having witnessed Tommy kicking a ball over the fence, for example, it usually takes me a few seconds to get to where Tommy is now standing, admiring his work.
"Tommy?"
"Wha'd'Ido?"
This is pretty much the opening salvo, and it often degenerates from there. Foolishly, I used to choose to answer the question, "You kicked the ball over the fence."
Grunts and eye rolling often come next, sometimes followed by an echo of the same plaintive, "Wha'd'Ido?"
This particular loop has the potential of being endless, but it does remind me exactly where the burden of proof lies: Not on Tommy. This is how I have come to understand politicians.
Toronto Mayor Rob Ford is the most recent example I can cite. After weeks of denying that he had been caught on video smoking crack, he apologized. After weeks of "What'd'Ido?" Anthony Weiner soldiered on through a full campaign for the New York mayor's office running strictly on the platform of "What'd'Ido?" He lost, but ex-governor of South Carolina Mark Sanford surprised everyone but himself by getting elected to the First Congressional District seat that he left just prior to serving two terms as governor, the office he left in disgrace after it was discovered that his "trips on the Appalachian Trail" were actually visits to Argentina to canoodle with his mistress. What'd'hedo? 
Which brings us back to Tommy, who would apparently be forgiven by most voters after a month or two for something as slight as poking another kid with a pencil while waiting in the lunch line. And someday, that pencil-poker might grow up to be Mayor of Toronto.