I have some skilled fibbers among my offspring. A couple years back, a mystery child downed an entire (mostly full) jar of gummy bear vitamins.
I was mortified when I saw the empty, supposedly child proof, jar and called Poison Control. After they assured me my child might become a little ill but was not about to die, I redirected my efforts towards finding the thief.
Dani was almost five and Evie was three at the time. The baby, Mase, was not a likely candidate. Surprisingly, nobody fessed up. Dani was the girl with the extensive criminal history so I started to go for a confession.
“Dani, I saw who stole the gummy bears.”
(In retrospect, lying myself probably wasn’t the best tactic, but I wanted to make sure my over gummied kid was OK.)
My daughter still held her ground for at least a good half hour. Impressive, but not completely convincing. She had pulled off an hour long denial before and had been found GUILTY.
I then, a bit more gently, grilled my, normally innocent, Evie. I promised her I would not be mad. I just needed to know. She tried to hold out like a pro, but finally gave in to the pressure. “I ate the gummy bears. I loved them.”
Yesterday, a new culprit decided to test out the waters of deception. Unfortunately for my now toddler, Mase, his first attempt was not so successful.
“Mom, Daxy made big mess. Look!”
“Mase, Dax is in his high chair. He did not make that mess.”
“Who made mess???”
“You did Mase.”
Ya, me made mess. Sawy Mom.”
I think he’s got some potential though.