Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Lies. Little Ones.

Presenting them with a giant bowl of soy-sauce covered quinoa, I declared to the kids: "It's just rice!" And they ate it. Almost all of it. And the edamame beans at the bottom. And the corn kernels peppered throughout.

When prompted for orange soda -- a household item recently purchased to discourage pull-up-poop and incent toilet-poop -- I came up with a long-winded story culminating in: "all the bubbles in there will bubble in your belly and make it hurt."

Yes. I lied.

Moments later, my independent 5-year-old emerges from the bathroom, claiming to have washed his hands. 

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"Yes," he replies, smiling guiltily.

Being the little liar that I am, I try again: "You have one second to tell me the truth."

"I did!" he insists.

"OK," I say, relying on my own subtle technique to play truth masterminder, "If I go in and check the sink and it's not wet, no TV tonight."

At which point he darts to the bathroom, scrubbing, slathering and sudd-ifying the floor.

"Told you I did it," he casually smiles, emerging moments later, calm, cool and collected.

Just like his Mamma.

No comments: