Training Pants on Fire

My daughter recently figured out how to lie. On a visit to the grocery store the other day, a few patrons in line asked her how old she was. Violet thought about it for a second, then proceeded to put four fingers out in front of her. “Four,” she said softly. “You are not four, honey, you’re two,” I replied. I then took her hand and configured her fingers into a peace sign. “You’re this many.”

“No,” she insisted, and then turned to the inquiring customers. She once again put four fingers out in front of her, and whispered her inaccurate age as a secret: “Four.”

So young, and already lying about her age…

Yesterday, she had a bought of diarrhea while wearing training pants, and decided it would be best not to tell me. Naturally, the overwhelming reek tipped me off.

“Violet,” I asked, “Did you poop?”

“Nope. No, no, no,” was her reply.

You would think such defecation would be difficult to deny when it’s running down your leg. However, when I placed Violet on the exercise mat to change her, I repeated the question. And even though her moving legs were smearing poo all over the mat, she insisted that she had not pooped.

Hmph. Someday, she’ll make an excellent politician…