Busted

You know those fine people out there who are utterly convinced of the perfection of their offspring? The ones who, when approached about the misbehavior of Little Pwecious, are insistant that surely THEIR child couldn't have done anything so heinous?

Yeah, well, I'm not one of those parents.

Both of the offspring (darling little toads that they are) tried to put one over on me last week.

Let's just say they failed in their attempts.

Attempt No.1, by No. 1 Son
My elder son has been off track for the past three weeks. Now what this means to those of you who have kids with normal school schedules is that his school is scheduled by "track," which has the school open year-round. They're on nine weeks, then off for three, or thereabouts, with one longer stretch akin to summer vacation for each track.

Two of the tracks have their long stretch over the summer. Our track? His long vacation is from Thanksgiving to the New Year.

Anyway, his particular track (which is obviously warped anyway) went back for the new school year about four-and-a-half weeks ago. They were in school for a week and a half, then went off track for three weeks.

I mentioned warped, right?

Well, anyway, while he was on-track, the Elder kept saying he had a stomachache each morning. However, miraculously, the moment he went off-track, he was cured!

Then Thursday arrived.

"Mommy, I have a stomachache," was accompanied by weak groans and a constipated looking expression.

"Really?" I raised my eyebrow. "You know, I find it amazing that for the entire three weeks you were off-track you didn't have a single stomachache, but today on the first day you're going back to class, you suddenly have a stomachache again."

He lost the pained look and comprehension flashed across his pwecious widdle face.

BUSTED!

I've heard nothing about stomachaches since.

Attempt No. 2, by No. 2 Son
Now as those of you who have more than one child know, with each additional child you're not just getting one more darling child to care for, you're also putting the additional element of the relationship between the new child and the existing child into play, which makes it more than twice as challenging going from one child to two.

I hear once you've gone to three kids you might as well have four because at that point you're so outnumbered you might as well just give in.

I'm totally not putting that to the test.

Anyway, and I know this comes as a shock to some of you, but sometimes children lie to get each other in trouble!

Yes, it's true. I'll pause a moment for that to sink in.

. . .

I had dropped the Elder off at school and the Younger and I arrived at his daycare. We walked in the door, and my beloved second son bonked into something while his daycare teacher and I were talking.

Dramatic sobs.

"Mommy! Michael pushed me!"

Ms. P and I looked at each other and then quickly looked away before we laughed out loud.

"Uhm, sweetie? Your brother's at school."

Dawning comprehension on sweet little four-year-old face.

"There's no way he could have pushed you."

BUSTED!

"Oh. Weww, it weawwy huwted." *

Because that, obviously, is a perfectly good reason to blame your elder brother for injuring you from over a five-mile distance.

Eyeroll.

It's no wonder my colorist makes a killing off me.

*Note: This says "Oh. Well, it really hurted." for anyone who isn't fluent in preschooler-ese.