I've never seen them, but I know they are here.

Now, before you call the guys with the strait jackets, you ought to know that although I might not be considered sane even on a good day, this is not one of those things that is all in my head.

I know they are here because they leave lots of clues; almost as if they want me to know they are here. Maybe they are ghosts, or elves, or malevolent little pixies.

I even know their names because, apparently my kids know them and have called them by name:

Nott Mee -- an oriental madman.

Ida Know -- a sneaky thief and promoter of anarchy.

Ididint Dooit -- a mastermind of catastrophic events.

If I could just catch one of these miscreants, I would call the police and have them all hung by their little toes. These elves, or ghosts or whatever they are, are ruining my home and making it look like my children are doing it. Despicable! A classic bad-guy-sets-up-the-innocent ruse.

Of course, my children are little angels. This morning, I asked them who was experimenting with the blender and pancake mix and left a trail of gooey stuff all the way to the bathroom.

"Ididnt Dooit," said one of my angels. I knew it! But just to be sure, I asked another one.

"Who decided to fling the mix around the stove and counters so that it would harden into little, yellow, cement puddles and make it virtually impossible to remove?"

"Nott Mee," she said. Aha! Ididint Dooit had an accomplice who was apparently thoroughly trained in the art of mess-making. I mean, he is good! The mess he made was such that one would need a sandblaster to rectify the situation.

These evil doers will not go unpunished, but I have to catch them first. Until that time comes, I have taken to putting out notes just to let them know I'm on to them.

In the bathroom I left a note that said: "Dear Ida Know, please be more careful when brushing your teeth. It's very difficult to see around the globs of toothpaste that you have smeared on the mirror. (Although, I have to say your toothpaste illustration of Calvin urinating on a Math book is very good.)"

In the laundry room: "Dear Ididint Dooit, Your clothes are, of course, exceptional, but as far as I know, they do not have the ability to transport themselves to their respective drawers. Please assist them."

In the kitchen: "Dear Nott Mee, Chocolate pudding is to be eaten at the table. If you feel the need to eat off the floor please inform me of your decision, or you will be required to buy me a new pair of socks."

"Dear Ida Know, Although it shows a certain creativity, please refrain from lining up the kitchen chairs like a choo-choo train. Are you also the one who keeps stacking up the couch cushions? Or is that Ididint Dooit? If so, please speak with him about it."

"Dear malevolent pixie-ghosts, The next one of you cretins who uses four kitchen towels to mop up a Koolaid spill, leaves them in the sink, and tries to cover up the evidence with leftover ravioli, carrot peels, and the dregs of your Ramen noodle cup, will be drawn and quartered!"

Ideally, I'd like to catch one of these villains and duct tape them to the wall, but something tells me that's never going to happen. They're just too good.

-- You can reach Laura at lsnyder@lauraonlife.com Or visit her website www.lauraonlife.com for more columns and info about her books.