I couldn't possibly remember when this was, only that it was after 2006. Maybe it was 2007, but these are all just random guesses.
I was at my grandmother's (mum's side), with my sister Kylie and cousin Mary. And you know how when you're a child, when you grow bored, you usually end up doing something pretty odd?
That's what happened with us.
We were in the guest room (which goes unoccupied until we come for our weekly sleepovers), and mucking about on the bed, when suddenly, I had an idea.
"Let's make a conclusion!" I exclaimed.
"A conclusion?" asked Mary, and Kylie looked just as confused. I have the feeling that we were only about 7, so conclusion seemed like an awfully complicated word. "What's that?"
"It's when you mix up a bunch of random things together to make something new!" I explained excitedly. "It'll be really fun! There are so many things in the bathroom, let's do it!"
Now, I wasn't exactly sure that when you 'mix up a bunch of random things together to make something new', it was called a conclusion, but I knew two things. 1) that it was like that word, and 2) I sounded smart saying it.
Mary and Kylie complied, and we all went to the bathroom.
Obviously, the disaster began.
We locked the two doors, and took a plastic mug from the cupboard, placing it in the sink, directly below the tap.
I started running the water, Mary rubbed the soap in to it, and Kylie began rummaging in the cupboard.
Baby shampoo, baby powder, face wash, hand wash, nail polish remover - in they went, and we stirred it with either an old toothbrush or an earbud, I forget which. Old shampoo, more baby shampoo, more water, more soap, MORE baby shampoo. The bathroom smelled incredibly fresh and sweet.
And then - disaster - my mum knocked on the door.
"Whose in here?" she asked.
"Uh, it's just us!" I said, wide-eyed, exchanging panicked looks with the other two. We weren't supposed to get caught doing this. We had no clue what to do.
"Open up, please!" my mum said, almost sternly.
"Er, just a minute!" I called back, and whispered to the others, "Hide it!"
We stuffed the things back in the cupboard, drained the mug, put the tissue roll back, emptied the soap dish, and tried to get the sticky residue off of the bottom of the mug, all in a panic, while my mum didn't let up on the door.
After almost two minutes, we opened up, after she demanded we did this instant.
She came in, looked at our probably terrified faces - and sniffed.
"Why does this room smell like baby shampoo?" she asked, quizzical.
"Er..." I said, racking my brains for an excuse.
Then Mary had to pipe up. "We made a conclusion!"
My mum stared at her, baffled, nose wrinkled at the strong scent.
I elbowed her, sharpish. "What she means, is that we were mixing up a bunch of stuff," I admitted. "We didn't want to tell anyone about the mess."
My mum still looked quite baffled. "I see," she mused. "Just - don't do it again, alright?" And she left, face still crinkled at the thick scent of baby shampoo in the air.
As soon as she left, we all sighed in relief. We weren't in trouble.
It was only much later that I realized that conclusion was not the word I had been looking for.
It had been concoction.
But, my blunder along with the dizzyingly strong smell of a variety of bathroom products had seemed to throw my mother off, and that had saved us from trouble.
(I haven't forgotten the word concoction since.)