The Peanut Butter Pinch
The Peanut Butter Pinch
The other day, during nap time, Bravo-Boy (remember, the 2-year old) came out of his room and said, "Dada, me gotta wee!""Get to it, then," I responded.
He tromps down the hall to the bathroom with intent. But then time creeps on. I begin to realize that the noble pasttime of urination should not take that long, especially for a 2-year old with a bladder approximately 10 times smaller than mine. So I go investigating. Bathroom door standing open. Light on. Signs that Bravo-Boy is in the area. Then...
AHHHHH!
Bravo-Boy pops out of the dining room located directly to the right of the bathroom.
"Why were you in the dining room, Bravo-Boy?"
"Nothing."
"Go back to your room and take a nap, Bravo-Boy."
"Ok."
As Bravo-Boy passes me in the hall, I notice a strange presence around his mouth. I put my hand on the child's shoulder as he passes and bend down. I sniff. Peanut butter!
"Bravo-Boy, you've been helping yourself to the peanut butter. You do not help yourself to the peanut butter. Go to your room. Now."
Case closed. Another collar for Detective Dadasshole.
The Peanut Butter Pinch II: A Sticky Predicament
The other day, same day as the previous episode, Delta-Boy comes out of his room during nap time.
"Dada, I've got to go wee."
"Get to it then."
He tromps down the hall to the bathroom with intent. This time, however, I just needed to get something from the kitchen, probably a Diet Coke, so I too tromped down the hall with intent without suspiscion when...
AHHHHHHH!
Out pops Delta-Boy from the dining room with a quick, "I was just using the bathroom."
The Dadometer goes wild. Something is afoot. Keenly aware of the previous incident with Bravo-Boy, I inquire, "Were you eating peanut butter?"
"No."
I bend down to a clean faced Delta-Boy...and...snifffffff...The distinct fragrance of peanut butter hung around Delta-Boy's mouth. The situation goes to Condition Yellow!
"Go to your room. You're not getting dessert after supper tonight."
Case closed. Another collar for Detective Dadasshole.
But...is the case closed?
Was the crime eating peanut butter without permission? Was it lying about it? Both? I don't know how I would have reacted if Delta-Boy had confessed during the interrogation. I may have just said, "You are not to help yourself to peanut butter or any food without asking Mama or me." I don't know, though. But coupled with lying...that's unacceptable. And it's been a growing problem. Sometimes just little things like he's in a room and something happens and you ask him about it. "I don't know." You know he knows. He was there. He's a witness.
Worse, it's happening at school. Thrifty Mama learned this week that he's been lying to his teachers. I spoke with one Friday explaining that it's been a problem at home, so I would be emailing on Fridays to find out if it's continuing. I don't need to know daily. I just need to have an idea if it's happening in safety away from home. Away from the Dadometer.
I've explained to him why we don't lie. Trust. If you can't tell Mama and Dada, it's something you shouldn't be doing. It's a sign you're doing something bad.
The problem is that I'm not sure when I should trust my son. He's told me the truth and I thought he wasn't. When I learned what he said was the truth, I apologized but explained..."This is why we don't lie."
We had an incident today...
"Dada, Zebra-Girl is making farty noises."
"Ok, and?"
"It's annoying me!"
"Then go away from her."
Delta-Boy trundles off and I hear, "Dada said..." and his voice trails off.
"Delta-Boy!"
"What?"
"You mean, 'Sir?' right?"
"Sir?"
"What did you just tell Zebra-Girl I said?"
"Nothing."
"I heard you say, 'Zebra-Girl, Dada said...' What did you tell her I said?"
"Nothing. I was going to say something but then I remembered something and stopped."
"Zebra-Girl!"
"What?"
"Don't you mean, 'Sir?'"
"Sir?"
"What did Delta-Boy say I said."
"I don't remember."
(Very possible. I love my Zebra-Girl, but she has the attention span of a tsetse fly.)
"Did he tell you that I said to stop making farty noises?"
"Yes."
Ok, leading the witness. Because of that, I'm not sure she's telling the truth or just knows that Dada isn't happy. I hate that I don't just automatically trust my son. It's all I think about when he's telling me something. I'm sure it will pass. As his teacher told me, "He's a good boy." But I also think of my students, some of whom won't tell the truth even when it would serve them better.
It's probably just a phase...but I want to make sure that's all it is. I'm just afraid I may also be overreacting.
All because of peanut butter.
posted by Bodog @ 5:39 PM
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