Me: Michael, that's not a very nice thing to ask someone.
Michael: But it is fat!
Me: I know, but it's not very nice to tell someone their stomach is fat.
Michael: But your stomach IS fat!!
This insistence on truth-telling is brought to you by the kid who tried to cheat me at Clue.
"Michael, cheating is LYING."
"It is? Oh, I didn't know that."
Considering we've had the cheating-is-lying discussion about 300 times now, I think our lack of progress in this matter can only have one explanation:
I only think I am speaking English.
Even Leah and Matthew are discovering that there is a whole world of things that they can lie about. Luckily, I have eyes on the back of my head. Also a sixth-sense that a hand-in-the-cookie-jar expression and guilty whistling means they are hiding contraband behind their backs.
Matthew is my biggest klepto. He regularly comes home from friends' houses and preschool with treasures stashed in his pockets. If we have stolen something from you, I apologize. Sometimes it takes me awhile to discover a pilfered toy and drag him over to return it. His partner-in-crime is also discovering the benefits of stealing. She's a regular Selina Kyle - coming home with gawdy rings and sparkly bracelets and acting for all the world like someone gave them to her.
Sigh.
I would like to say that I've gotten the problem under control after holding several Family Home Evenings on the subject, but I'll be honest, the best FHE we've had in recent weeks was the one that consisted mostly of time-outs and discussion of not using potty words and I ate frozen custard straight from the carton after the kids went to bed.
You might say I'm a little burned out. And by that I mean if you try to come in my kitchen after you're supposed to be in bed, I will attack you with a flame thrower.
But good luck getting into my kitchen at the moment anyway. I'm having my carpets cleaned today, which meant I greeted David when he walked in the door last night (er, this morning) at 12:45 AM and said, "Wanna help me move some furniture into the kitchen?"
I'm such a nice wife.
Sigh.
I would like to say that I've gotten the problem under control after holding several Family Home Evenings on the subject, but I'll be honest, the best FHE we've had in recent weeks was the one that consisted mostly of time-outs and discussion of not using potty words and I ate frozen custard straight from the carton after the kids went to bed.
You might say I'm a little burned out. And by that I mean if you try to come in my kitchen after you're supposed to be in bed, I will attack you with a flame thrower.
But good luck getting into my kitchen at the moment anyway. I'm having my carpets cleaned today, which meant I greeted David when he walked in the door last night (er, this morning) at 12:45 AM and said, "Wanna help me move some furniture into the kitchen?"
I'm such a nice wife.
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