When my seven-year-old son does something he's not supposed to, I usually don't have to worry about him covering up the evidence, leaving me to find out about it later. Rather, and much to my amusement, he tends to give himself away at the first opportunity.
"Mom, I accidentally yanked a toy that I wanted out of my baby brother's hands and now he's crying."
"Mommy, somehow my milk spilled on the floor when I was pretending to shoot it from mouth like a human water fountain."
"Mama, that new bottle of shampoo got all used up while I was in the shower. Oh, and the tiles are all really shiny and smell nice now."
It's always so hard to keep my Mom Face on when I'm compelled to giggle at his hilariously strange defense mechanisms. It's like he tries to point out the problem before I find out on my own, because the one who draws attention to it couldn't possibly be the culprit. Right?
This conversation actually took place tonight.
P: Mom? Did you poo today?
Me: Umm... What?!
P: Did you poo today?
Me: I didn't, actually. But why in the world are you asking?
P: Well, I just went poo a second ago. And when I stood up, there was some brown stuff smeared on the toilet seat. I didn't do it! I'm just letting you know that it's there. And it's gross. That's gross, Mom.
Me: *blink* Son. You're the only one in this house that's gone today. Not to mention that the toilet was clean right before you sat on it! Who else could've possibly been the offender?
He then opened his mouth to respond, but instead just stood there looking at me, trying desperately to find a flaw in my logic. Anything to clear his name. I could see the little wheels turning for full minute, while I sat back and concealed my smile.
He narrowed his eyes and jutted out his lower lip. "I still say it was you."
